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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24596479">A Witch's Revenge</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wicked_Wayward_Warrior/pseuds/Wicked_Wayward_Warrior'>Wicked_Wayward_Warrior</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Witch's Revenge [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bisexual Female Character, Black Character(s), Black woman, F/F, F/M, John Winchester Being an Asshole, LGBTQ Character of Color, Magic, Murder, Non-Canonical Character Death, Pre-Supernatural (TV), SPN - Freeform, Witch Hunters, Witchcraft, Witches, black woman witch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:15:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>34,369</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24596479</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wicked_Wayward_Warrior/pseuds/Wicked_Wayward_Warrior</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Zephyra NighWolfe is a witch for hire in a world where the supernatural is a reality. For decades before she was born, her coven known as the Wise worked closely with Men of Letters to protect the world from monsters and demons. After the Men of Letters fell at the hands of a Knight of Hell in the 1960′s hunters preyed upon witches, leading them into hiding. Fear of persecution, witches disbanded their covens and hid in the shadows as hunters took on the responsibility of protecting humanity. Some, like Zephyra, worked for hire, providing hunters with spells and special gifts to aid in the fight against hell as a means of survival. Now, after receiving a phone call from the infamous Dean Winchester, Zephyra realizes that she is purposed with so much more than running from hunters.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester/Black Original Female Character, Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Witch's Revenge [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778011</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This will be an eleven-part series. It takes place right before the series begins in 2005 before Dean goes to Stanford to find Sam, and does not follow the canon events of Supernatural.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Hairs on the back of my neck stood on end when I reached the motel. I have worked with hunters before, offering them spells to track creatures or people, providing them with information on how to kill monsters, and put together hex bags and mojo bags. Being a witch for hire was how I kept my pockets padded and my worries nonexistent, but it didn’t come without risks. Any time a witch decided to do business with hunters, their life was on the line. Luckily for me, I was smart, and I was good at what I did. And hunters weren’t as smart as they thought they were.</p><p class="p1">Condensation fogged the air in front of me as I exhaled a deep breath. The moon hid behind clouds in the darkness of a Virginia night. I knocked on the door and pulled my jacket tight across my chest while I waited, twisting and turning, examining the shadows and the bushes that surrounded the motel. Several cars were parked out in the lot, and the sidewalk was flooded with yellow light pouring through the windows of motel rooms. Though the curtains were drawn, I could see the lights on in his room.</p><p class="p1">I raised my hands to knock again, becoming impatient with the hunter. To my pleasure, the door swung open before my knuckles connected with the metal door. Dean Winchester greeted me with a smug look and tired eyes. Glitter-like freckles scattered across his cheeks and nose like they were dumped there haphazardly. “Zephyra,” he said, looking my body up and down and biting into his lip.</p><p class="p1">I rolled my eyes and folded my arms across my chest. “You gonna let me in or not, Winchester?” Patience was no longer something I was willing to practice. It was a generous favor for me to have driven here from Asheville, but he refused to meet me anywhere else. Sometimes, I needed to make the hard decisions if I was going to be paid the money I was demanding.</p><p class="p1">Dean slid to the side, allowing me space to walk through the door. “Come on in,” Dean said as I stepped over the threshold. Immediately, I was taken aback by the frantic energy swirling around the room. Clearly, there was a reason why Dean begged me to meet him here. “You’re late.”</p><p class="p1">I raised my arm and took a dramatic look at my watch. “Hmm, according to ZT, I’m right on time.”</p><p class="p1">Dean shut the door and brushed past me on his way to the fridge. “What the fuck is ZT?”</p><p class="p1">“Zep Time, Mr. Winchester. The only time that matters.”</p><p class="p1">My attention shifted as I took a look around the room. The chaotic energy was reaching for my attention, and it was my duty to acknowledge it. The walls were covered in newspaper clippings and white push pins connected by several feet of red yarn. Ammo and hex bags covered the table, holding down the map that had been stretched out over it. “Is this all you?” I asked.</p><p class="p1">Dean pulled two beers out of the fridge and twisted the top off both of them before handing me one. “No, it was my dad’s case. I guess he was working on it before he left.”</p><p class="p1">The beer was chilled sliding down my throat. Driving for five hours left me thirsty and beer was definitely a top contender for my drink of choice. Using the sleeve of my leather jacket, I wiped the froth from my lips and burped. “What do you mean, ‘you guess’?”</p><p class="p1">He shrugged and sat down at the table, holding his beer between his legs. “I mean, I guess. I don’t know.”</p><p class="p1">From what I understood, Dean and his father typically hunted together. Every now and again they would work separate cases, but John was extraordinarily protective of his son. I stared at him, folding my upper lip up toward my nose. “When was the last time you spoke to your dad?”</p><p class="p1">The necklace hanging from his neck swung, sliding across his freckled white skin. “It’s been at least a couple days.”</p><p class="p1">I took another sip of beer and leaned my hip against the table. “And is it normal for him to go a couple days without checking in?”</p><p class="p1">Dean blew out an exasperated breath. Most of my questions had been answered long before I even accepted his request. But something about the energy in the room left me feeling discombobulated. There was something off, something that had me questioning my own intuition, though the gift of the ancestors rarely led me wrong.</p><p class="p1">“Depends on the case. Some cases he’d disappear for up to a week, but this should have been a quick cake walk.”</p><p class="p1">“What was he hunting?”</p><p class="p1">Dean pointed to the paper clippings plastered over the wallpaper. From the looks of it, the clippings were an improvement for the puke-stained beige paper that covered the walls. “Looks like it was a shifter.”</p><p class="p1">I nodded and took another sip of beer. “Seems easy enough. Did you notice any kills after your dad went rogue?”</p><p class="p1">He took a heavy gulp of beer and set his bottle down on the table. “Are you gonna keep playing twenty questions with you questioning if I know how to do my damn job, or are you going to help me find my dad like I asked you to?”</p><p class="p1">I swallowed hard, trying not to react in anger. My reputation for having a short fuse wasn’t an exaggeration, but Dean knew that. Despite the fact that I wanted to slap him in the back of his head for raising his voice at me, I took in a deep, calming breath. “I’m not questioning your dad’s competence, or yours even. I’m trying to get the facts so I can determine the best course of action, got it?”</p><p class="p1">His ears became hot and red and he balled his hands into fists. “Oh, I know what you need to do.” He stood up, leaning into his hands as they were pressed into the map that covered the table. “Use your tracking spell to find him. Now!”</p><p class="p1">One hand on my hip and the other scratching my brow, I looked in his direction. I looked at the color burning his cheeks and the tension causing strain in his shoulders. I considered how to respond for much longer than I would have in the past, but came to the most authentic conclusion.</p><p class="p1">I took a small step closer fo Dean and tempered the attempt at intimidation. “Raise your voice at me again, and I’ll charge double the price we discussed on the phone.”</p><p class="p1">“Then do your damn job!”</p><p class="p1">A chuckle slipped through my lips, showing that his game of intimidation didn’t work on me. “The funny thing is, Winchester, you and I both know I can turn tail and not be bothered with you or your lying ass dad. I don’t need your money. But <em>you</em> need <em>my</em> help. So, stow the attitude or Imma bounce.”</p><p class="p1">Dean huffed. “So what, you get to do whatever you want I just have to take it?”</p><p class="p1">I shrugged. “Dean, you are a young, handsome, white man; you’ve always been able to do whatever the hell you want without consequence. But today, if you want my help, you answer my fucking questions or you can go about finding another willing and capable witch to help you. And we both know just how difficult that will be.”</p><p class="p1">He rolled his lip into his mouth and bit down. The mental gymnastics going on in his head was clear even to me. Not hearing from a parent, especially in this line of work, was frightening, I know. But I wasn’t chopped liver, and I wasn’t going to tolerate working with anyone, much less a Winchester.</p><p class="p1">He dropped his head into his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry,” he said, much calmer than the last time he spoke. “There, uh, weren’t any more kills after my dad left.”</p><p class="p1">I nodded and gulped down beer, wiping it off my chin when it dribbled. “Good. That means one less mess to clean up.” I set what was left of my bottle down and headed for the door.</p><p class="p1">Dean ambled over beside me. “Wait, where are you going?” The panic in his voice seemed child-like almost.</p><p class="p1">I tossed my curly hair over my shoulder. “I’ve got to get my things out of my trunk.” Without waiting on him, I stepped out into the darkness swallowed the parking lot. My car looked almost black under the dim and faulty lights.</p><p class="p1">“So you drive a freakin BMW convertible?”</p><p class="p1">I hadn’t noticed Dean follow me out of the motel room and spun as soon as I heard his voice. It wasn’t an easy feat to sneak up on me. “Why are you following me?”</p><p class="p1">He shrugged, all remnants of his earlier anger seemed to evaporate like figments of my imagination. “Look, for all we know, something snatched my dad here, so I’m gonna make sure nothing snatches you out here, okay?”</p><p class="p1">His eyes looked like tumbled moss agate stones beneath the cleansing light of the moon. For a moment, his kindness made him seem chivalrous, adorable even. But even in the beauty of his eyes and his charming concern, I wouldn't ignore the stories of violence and aggression that followed his family through covens all over the country. I was smarter than that.</p><p class="p1">The car beeped when I pressed the key fob for the trunk. I raised the door and used another key to unlock the secret compartment that housed one of my bags. I pulled it out and handed the duffel to Dean.</p><p class="p1">His brows scrunched together and his eyes narrowed as he accepted it in his grasp. “Is there a reason why you’re handing me this?”</p><p class="p1">For the first time since I arrived, I smiled. It wasn’t forced or manipulative; it was a genuine smile. It felt foreign on my face, and by the look of his expression, it looked the same way. “If you’re gonna be out here, you might as well make yourself useful.” I dug through my trunk, searching for the ingredients I would need to complete the tracking spell. Candles, herbs, oils, I stuffed them in the bag Dean was holding and locked the compartment.</p><p class="p1">“You’ve got a lot of shit in this little car of yours.”</p><p class="p1">Once the trunk was locked, I turned around. The moonlight softened the harsh angles of his face. The light made his dark hair look almost silver. Looking past the macho man bravado, I honed in on the delicate softness of his round lips, contrasting with the sharp lines of his jaw. He was gorgeous, but still a hunter, nonetheless.</p><p class="p1">I smirked and jerked my head back toward the motel. “And that surprises you?”</p><p class="p1">He chuckled. “I mean, what the hell did you expect. Convertible BMW’s aren’t the kind of cars you hunt with.” As we walked back to the door, he jerked his chin toward a car parked just outside the door. It was a Chevy Impala, black, with chrome accents. “<em>That</em> is a car.”</p><p class="p1">I raised my finger the air between us as we walked. “Number one, I don't hunt. I am a procurer of very special items and provide magical services. Number two, my car runs on gas like yours does, gets me from place to place like yours does, and sometimes, is my home away from home, just like I’m sure yours is. And third”—we reentered the motel—“how about we focus on finding your pops?”</p><p class="p1">I closed the door behind me and Dean set my duffel in one of the chairs next to the table. He moved aside while I dug through it to retrieve the herbs, candles, and oils. “Do you have something of your dad’s?” I asked.</p><p class="p1">He shuffled over to the bed and pulled a silver dagger from beneath the pillow. Loud thuds filled the silence of the room as he walked it over to me. The chill of the blade bit into my fingers as he handed it to me. The plastic handle was wrapped in duct tape and had the initials <em>J.W.</em> carved into it.</p><p class="p1">Carving initials into a weapon didn’t sound like the John Winchester I’d heard stories about. But I shouldn’t be surprised. Rarely did the man live up to the legend. Whether it was smart or not, it belonged to John, which made it an important part of my spell. I sat it down on the map laid out in front of me and dressed my candles with oil and herbs. Dean stood, leaning against the counters of the kitchenette, with his arms folded across his chest while he watched me work.</p><p class="p1">Normally, it wouldn't have bothered me, but the energy in the room was still unstable. Something happened in this room, something that I wasn’t sure Dean was even aware of. The thought of mentioning it to him made a lump form in my chest, which only confirmed what I already guessed.</p><p class="p1">“Do you need me to do something?” he asked.</p><p class="p1">Once the candles were dressed, I handed Dean two and kept two for myself. “Put these at the east and south ends of the room. I’ll put these at north and west.”</p><p class="p1">He tilted the candles in his hands, examining them. “I don’t need to say anything in Latin, do I?”</p><p class="p1">My nostrils flared. "Latin isn’t the only magical language, you know?”</p><p class="p1">“Then why is every spell ever written, written in Latin?”</p><p class="p1">My eyes rolled hard as I set a candle down on the end table placed on the north side of the room. It wasn’t Dean’s fault he didn’t know a thing about magic, but not knowing would bite him in the ass eventually. “They aren’t, genius.” I snapped my finger, setting the wick of the candle ablaze. “It’s just what most of the European philosophers and alchemists used in their writings, so it was just a popular language for magic.”</p><p class="p1">“Hmm. So…”</p><p class="p1">I walked to the west side of the room and placed my second candle. “So, no, you don’t need to say anything in Latin.” With each of the candles set where they belonged, I rejoined Dean at the center of the room, leaning over the table.</p><p class="p1">“What next?”</p><p class="p1">I cleared everything off the table except for the map and the dagger. Reaching in my duffel, I pulled out a round dish and filled it with sand and black salt. “Go turn off the lights.”</p><p class="p1">Darkness descended like a blanket over the room. The only source of light became the candles placed in the four cardinal directions. Each represented one of the four elements and offered us protection while I worked the spell. With all the turbulent energy surrounding us, every little measure of protection was appreciated.</p><p class="p1">The rhythmic sound of Dean slapping his hand against his thigh was strangely comforting. His apprehension soaked the atmosphere of the room like droplets of water creating a fog from a steamy shower. Shadows of light flickered on the walls from the shifting flames as magic began to stir in the room. Coils of my hair raised away from my neck and the familiar tingle of magic buzzed the surface of my skin.</p><p class="p1">Using a lancet from my bag, I pricked the pad of my finger and squeezed until a sufficient amount of blood bubbled to the surface. On the face of the map, I drew a sigil I created years ago to amplify a search for someone or something. There was no telling where we’d find the Winchester patriarch, and my magic would need to stretch far enough to reach him.</p><p class="p1">Dean stood beside me, his heavy breaths tickling the back of my neck. He peered over my shoulder, watching me nervously. “Stop squirming,” I demanded, the shuffling of his feet making it difficult for me to concentrate.</p><p class="p1">“Sorry,” he quietly muttered. The shuffling of his feet and the patting of his thighs halted, but I was still hyperaware of every movement he made and every breath he took.</p><p class="p1">I groaned and turned to look at him over my shoulder. He raked his hands through his already spiky hair and stared at me like a deer in headlights. It never occurred to me that he’d never seen a witch work in the way that I did.</p><p class="p1">To his surprise, I grabbed his arm and pulled him so that he was standing right next to me. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words. I ignored it. “Keep your hand on my shoulder and focus on your dad,” I instructed.</p><p class="p1">Wrinkles formed on Dean’s eyes as he closed them. Having Dean so close would amplify my own power since he was John’s son. If it made him feel useful, that was a good thing too.</p><p class="p1">I closed my eyes and allowed magic to wash over my lashes, kiss my cheeks, and flow through me. “<em>To the stable earth, the ever-changing waters, the communicative air, the passionate fire, I invoke you! May your guidance lead to the man we seek. May we find the soul that’s lost. May we dry the tears that have been spilled, and accept the cost.</em>”</p><p class="p1">When I opened my eyes, magic swirled around me like a zephyr. I reached into the bowl of sand and salt and sprinkled it on the map. I dropped a match on the map and watched as it was engulfed in flames. My cheeks warmed as the heat from the flames licked my skin.</p><p class="p1">Beside me, Dean remained uneasy. The skin of his knuckles blanched as his grip tightened my shoulder. Some part of me understood what he was feeling. Losing a parent was not something to take lightly, even if that parent was a raging asshole.</p><p class="p1">Humanizing hunters was never on my agenda, and yet here I was feeling sorry for a hunter with an infamous reputation for killing witches. My mother was killed by hunters when I was a kid, so I could see how he might be feeling, but that didn't change who he was. Nothing could.</p><p class="p1">I sucked the tears swelling in my eyes back up, erasing them before Dean could get a look. Allowing him to see me with feelings other than anger would prove to be dangerous, and I wasn’t willing to take that chance.</p><p class="p1">The edges of the map turned to ash and smoke filled the room as it billowed toward the ceiling. Slowly, the map became smaller and smaller until the fire extinguished itself, leaving only a small bit left behind.</p><p class="p1">The paper burned Dean’s hand as he picked it up. He flinched but didn’t let it fall back to the table. “Savannah, Georgia? What the hell is my dad doing there?”</p><p class="p1">I shrugged. “I’ve got no clue.” Waving my hands in the air around us, I allowed artificial light to fill the room again and extinguished the candles.</p><p class="p1">He turned his back to me and raked his hands through his hair. “Why would he leave all of this here, not call me, and go to Savannah?”</p><p class="p1">My hands went to work putting the sand and black salt back in their containers and collecting candles from all over the room. “The service you requested was that I find your dad, which I’ve done. You didn’t ask me to figure out the how’s or the why’s.”</p><p class="p1">One hand on his hip and the other on the bridge of his nose, he spun around. “But could you?”</p><p class="p1">“In theory.” He flashed a pathetic glance at me like he was begging for my help, but too afraid to ask. “But my guess is the most appropriate and efficient way to get your answers is to go to Savannah and find your Pops.” Once my things were packed, I strolled over to him with my hand out, palm facing up. “In the meantime...”</p><p class="p1">Begrudgingly, Dean reached into his back pocket and handed me five clean and crisp hundred dollar bills. I folded them and placed them in the pocket inside my jacket. Following that transaction, the air in the room seemed to thicken, making it difficult to breathe.</p><p class="p1">Every inch of my skin tingled with a sense of urgency. My eyes darted toward the door. I slung my bag on my shoulder and rushed toward it, barely able to catch my breath. My fingers wound around the doorknob and I pulled. The door swung open so hard, that it slammed into the wall with a loud thud.</p><p class="p1">Chilled air bit into my cheeks and my breaths became more shallow. Magic was filling my lungs, making it difficult for me to remain upright. My hands tightened against my chest like I was clawing, digging for reprieve. My knees dropped to the asphalt, gasping for air. It felt like my life was slipping away from me, right then and there. Gray spots dotted my vision and I reached for something, anything to hold on to.</p><p class="p1">My lungs expanded, filling with air for the first time in what felt like several minutes. “Zep, you okay?”</p><p class="p1">I blinked the blurs away, clearing my view of Dean kneeling in front of me. “What?”</p><p class="p1">His hands wrapped around mine as I clutched the fabric of his shirt. He drew in a deep breath as if he were inhaling in all of me in the moment. His eyes traced the features of my face and then dropped to my body, making sure I was physically okay. “Are you okay? It looked like you couldn’t breathe. You aren’t asthmatic, are you?”</p><p class="p1">Words didn’t come together incomprehensible streams, so I shook my head and swallowed hard. Magic tickled the tip of my nose, taking the edge off of the cold air. Everything clicked for me and I groaned. The ancestors were pushing me toward him. My brows knitted together in the center of my forehead as I thought. This wasn’t some physical or biological reaction, so the spirits were trying to tell me something. They were trying to lead me somewhere, but why to Dean Winchester?</p><p class="p1">He was a hunter, people that brought so much harm to other witches. If I had nothing to offer him in his search for his dad, he would have killed me the moment I entered the parking lot. Hunters were dangerous, and they killed with reckless abandon. They shot first and didn't worry about answers until the <em>thing</em> was dead and in the ground. So why would they want me to work with him to the point of bringing me physical harm?</p><p class="p1">“Zephyra!”</p><p class="p1">Hearing my name from his lips broke me away from my thoughts. I jerked my hands away from him and used my bag to push myself to my feet. “What? I’m fine.”</p><p class="p1">He tilted his head, unconvinced, but sighed, giving in any way. Dean cleared his throat and raked his hand through his hair. “Well, since you’re <em>fine</em>, I need your help.”</p><p class="p1">My eyes rolled hard into the back of my head and groaned again. Even though I knew the spirits wanted me to go with him, I couldn’t let him think I actually <em>wanted</em> to. To be fair, I didn’t. “Help you? With what? I just helped you find your pops like we agreed.”</p><p class="p1">I bent down to pick up my bag now that my legs were done shaking and my breaths fell back into their normal pattern. By the time I reached it, Dean already had it halfway in the air, a nervous grin playing on his lips. “I know,” he said, “but I was thinking—”</p><p class="p1">“That’s never a good thing.</p><p class="p1">“—that I don’t know what I’m walking in to. And if whatever this was took my dad off guard, then maybe I should make the smart play and not go in alone.”</p><p class="p1">I grabbed my bag from him and slung it over my shoulder. “How do you know something took him off guard? Maybe he’s in Savannah willingly, drinking whiskey and riding down a country road with the wind in his hair and a girl in his passenger.”</p><p class="p1">Dean scoffed. “No, my dad’s not like that. And it’s not like him not to call me for this long. Something’s going on, and I intend to find out what it is, but I can only do it with your help.”</p><p class="p1">I hesitated. The spirits may have wanted me to go with him, to find John Winchester, but what would happen once we did? Would they decide I was no longer useful and gut me?</p><p class="p1">I felt a tickle on my cheek and raised my hand to check what it was. My hand grazed a wing. A dragonfly with blue iridescent winds flew into my view and then landed on Dean’s nose. He blew at it, careful not to bring it harm, to force it to fly away. I watched intently as the dragonfly landed on Dean’s car for several seconds before flying off into the darkness.</p><p class="p1">Resigning, I sighed and secured my bag on my shoulder once again. “I’ll go, but only if you promise me something.”</p><p class="p1">He clapped his hands together and grinned, his lip stretching from one ear over to the other. “Great! Yes, anything!”</p><p class="p1">My eyes dropped to the ground. Since we’d been out here for so long, my eyes were adjusting to the lack of light. When I looked up again, I tucked my coils behind my ear. “I need you to promise my safety.”</p><p class="p1">His face fell flat until he caught himself and returned a smile to his lips. “Promise your safety? I mean, I can’t promise that nothing will happen to you. The nature of hunting is that things always go sideways.”</p><p class="p1">I licked at my lips and shook my head. “No, that’s not what I mean.” I paused, gathering the words to explain. “I know that you know the legends, the stories hunters and witches alike tell about the Winchesters. I know your disdain for witches, how your father likes to pride himself on being a ‘witch killer’.”</p><p class="p1">Dean gulped and realization hit him like a pan to the head. “What?”</p><p class="p1">“I know the only reason why I’m still alive is because I’m useful. Because I can help you, but I need you to promise me, that when it’s all over, that neither you or your dad will hurt or kill me.”</p><p class="p1">“Zephyra…” There was hurt in his voice, like I was stabbing him in the gut by even thinking that he would do such a thing. But I knew better. I’d seen what happens to witches when they trusted hunters, trusted Winchesters.</p><p class="p1">“So do we have a deal?"</p><p class="p1">Fear made every muscle in my body go rigid as he leaned down toward me. His lips grazed my cheek in the most gentle act I’d ever seen from a hunter. His hands squeezed my shoulders in an effort he meant to be comforting, but it only made me worried. Who was this man? Could it be possible that he was nothing like the stories that hunters shared at roadhouses and pool houses? Logic snapped back into my mind. Of course, it was. There’s truth to every story, reality in every legend.</p><p class="p1">This was how they got close enough to destroy our covens all those years ago. I gave my muscles permission to relax beneath his touch. “I promise. We won’t hurt you. Just help me find my dad.”</p><p class="p1">My voice was low, a simple breath in the raging winds swirling around me. “Okay.”</p><p class="p2">
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Zephyra and Dean embark out on their road trip to find John Winchester in Savannah, GA.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">The last time I tried to walk away from Dean, the Spirits took the wind out of my chest, so I was afraid to go anywhere until he was ready. I knew I was safe since I’d agreed to go with him on his journey, but I didn’t want to take the chance, just in case. Together we took down the newspaper clippings and the red yard from the walls and burned them in a trashcan. No one needed to walk in and see what John was up to. Even if the shifter had been taken care of, this work wasn’t something I wished on any soul.</p>
<p class="p1">When we were done, the sun was peeking over the horizon. Golden light kissed the motel parking lot. By no means was it beautiful, but it was the first time I’d seen it outside of the shroud of darkness. Dean walked behind me as we headed to my car. A beep sounded as I clicked the key fob to open the trunk. “You wanna stop for breakfast before we hit the road?” I asked.</p>
<p class="p1">I looked up when I didn't hear his answer and found him standing next to his Impala with the trunk and the driver’s side door open. Leaving my trunk open, I walked over to him. “What are you doing?”</p>
<p class="p1">His hair was still wet from the quick shower he took, and wet spots dotted his thin t-shirt. Thankfully, with the sun coming up, the air was warming. “I popped the trunk so you can throw your stuff in.”</p>
<p class="p1">My gaze narrowed and I fiddled with the keys in my hand. “We’re going in my car.”</p>
<p class="p1">Light gleamed in his eyes. "No way in hell am I leaving my car here. Besides, I’ve got a fucking arsenal in my trunk.”</p>
<p class="p1">I scoffed, and put my hand on my hip. “Well, there’s no way in hell I’m leaving my car here, either. Do you know how many specialty items I have locked up in that trunk? I can’t just leave my car anywhere. If someone got their hands on that stuff…”</p>
<p class="p1">Dean dipped his shoulder as he sauntered over, meeting me halfway between his Impala and my convertible. “But it’s locked, right. No one will get in there.”</p>
<p class="p1">“You can't promise that. Besides, I don’t trust anyone’s driving.”</p>
<p class="p1">He licked at his lips and averted his gaze. His eyes looked brighter beneath the light of the sun, and the freckles on his cheeks and arms looked like tiny flecks of stardust. “I’m a good driver, I promise. Besides, I already promised to keep you safe, so let me keep that promise.”</p>
<p class="p1">The smug look on his face and his flirtatious wink made me want to run very far away, but I was supposed to embark on this journey with him, despite my convictions. Agreeing to ride in a car with him made me physically ill. Being agreeable in general made me physically ill.</p>
<p class="p1">I crossed my arms over my chest and took a step back, putting necessary space between us both. “Fine. I’ll ride with you to Savannah, but only if we made a pit stop in Fayetteville.”</p>
<p class="p1">He squared his stance and straightened his back. “What for?”</p>
<p class="p1">“I have a friend there that I can leave my car with.” I spun on my heels and slammed the trunk closed. “I’ll text you the address and meet you there.”</p>
<p class="p1">Out of the rearview, I watched him, a cocky smile on his lips, flannel wrapped around his waist, and wet hair. For the life of me, I couldn’t fathom why the spirits would intertwine our paths, but I could sense the gravity of my connection with him. It went beyond biology, beyond simple feelings like lust or interest. Somehow, meeting Dean Winchester was going to change my life forever. Either that or bring it to a swift end.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/>
<p class="p1">Along the way, I called Ramsey, hoping that she would be home by the time I reached her house. Several months had passed since I’d last spoken to her, so it felt strange contacting her for a favor such as this. Despite that, she was the only person, only witch, that I trusted to keep an eye on some of my most prized possessions.</p>
<p class="p1">Ramey had been with me, traveling the country, when I procured many of the items in my trunk so she understood what kind of importance they held. I was grateful that she had been so easy going on the phone and agreed to let me keep the car parked in her driveway. Especially after the way things went down the last time we were together, I didn’t deserve the kindness she showed to me.</p>
<p class="p1">It was still early in the morning by the time I pulled into her driveway. Colorful flowering plants lined the driveway and the front porch. A bluebottle tree stood in her front yard, keeping malicious spirits out of her home. It was one of the things we were taught in our coven when we were growing up, and it made joy bubble in my chest to see her continuing to practice in her adulthood. I shouldn’t be surprised. Ramsey was one of the most gifted witches on the East coast, including me. Her ability to create powerful sigils and spells was rare and impressed even the eldest witches.</p>
<p class="p1">She stood on the front porch when I parked the car. Thankfully, Dean stopped for breakfast on his way here, so I would have some time with Ramsey before he arrived and she ripped me a new one for bringing a Winchester to her home. I’d made her aware during my phone call, and I knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself, but it still felt like a betrayal.</p>
<p class="p1">Green dreadlocks hung over her shoulders as she shook her head with a spirited smile on her lips. Last time I’d seen her, her hair was half orange and half black, and yet with each color change, she became even more beautiful than before. Incredible beauty was just one of the perks of being a Taurus moon, I guess.</p>
<p class="p1">She was waiting for me with arms wide open when I hopped out of my car. I squeezed her tight, burrowing my face in her hair. She smelled of sage and cinnamon, just as she always had, and her oiled skin was soft beneath my touch. The sun kissed her golden-brown skin and her amber eyes sparkle. Her wavy skirt swayed as she rocked me back and forth in her arms. “Dammit, Zep, what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?”</p>
<p class="p1">I pulled away and looked up into her eyes with the same admiration I had for her when we were just kids. “You know me; the spirits are mischievous, always getting me in trouble.”</p>
<p class="p1">Her pierced lip stretched wide, her glittery gloss shimmering under the light of the sun. “Yeah, but they always bring you out of it, though.”</p>
<p class="p1">I chuckled, though I wasn't too sure it would end up like that this time. “What about you? How the hell have you been?”</p>
<p class="p1">Gold bangles jangled, falling down her wrists as she scratched absently at her cheek. “Nothing much, really. Just working on some journals to sell at the bookstore for Beltane. I’m planning on doing a little event the night of, you know, for all the solitary witches that don’t have coven to celebrate with.”</p>
<p class="p1">Ramsey had always been a leader. If it weren’t for what happened to the WISE years ago, she would have been the coven’s next high priestess, but after so many witches died, the surviving elders decided to disband. The loss of the coven hurt so many of us since those were our mothers, aunts, friends, but it left a void where a coven belonged. When we were together, Ramsey and I had many conversations about starting the coven back up, but the wound was too painful for her, and I didn’t blame her at all.</p>
<p class="p1">I didn't think about the tragedy that befell our coven often. The ache in my chest became too painful when I thought about my mother being killed by hunters. My other mom, Theresa, wasn’t a witch, per se, but followed along with the coven because of her love for Mom. Thankfully, since she wasn’t a practicing witch, she wasn’t in attendance the night our coven was butchered. If she had been, there was no telling what would have happened to me.</p>
<p class="p1">I shook my mind free of my memories and refocused myself in the present. The sun was bearing down on my brown skin and Ramsey’s sultry gaze was fixed on mine. “I’m proud of you, you know?” I said, playfully punching her arm.</p>
<p class="p1">She swatted my hand and giggled. The sound of her laughter was like chimes ringing, peaceful, and healing. “Oh shut up. It’s your store too, Zep. Speaking of, it would be nice for the co-owner to stop by more often than four times a year.”</p>
<p class="p1">I shrugged. "Truthfully, I thought I was no longer welcome thereafter…” My voice trailed off until there was silence between us. My head dropped as I became overwhelmed by shame. If only I hadn’t fucked things up…</p>
<p class="p1">Ramsey's fingers brushed my chin, and she pushed it up, forcing my gaze back to hers. “Just because we aren’t together, doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, Zep. Don’t you ever forget that.”</p>
<p class="p1">I cleared my throat. I didn't want to deceive myself into thinking that this was more than it was, that we could ever go back to the way things were. What was between Ramsey and I was special, once in a lifetime, even, but I fucked it up. “So, are we just going to hang outside until the hunter gets here, or are you going to invite me in?”</p>
<p class="p1">Ramsey's soft and gentle demeanor shifted at the mention of the Winchester. Some would call it self-sabotage, but I called it grounding back in reality. He wasn’t much farther behind me, and it was easier to think about him than my failed relationship with Ramsey. Her hand dropped from my chin and she took a step backward. “Honestly, I’d forgotten about that. You do that sort of thing to me.” She reached up, rubbing her neck, and smiled. “I think we should wait out here if he’s close. I don’t want him staying around any longer than he has to.”</p>
<p class="p1">There was an ache in my chest. Even though I understood, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed. She had every reason for not wanting him here, but I thought that having me here would be enough to put her at ease. I chipped away at the black polish on my nails as we stood. “Yeah, that makes sense.”</p>
<p class="p1">“What I don't understand, is why you’re working with him anyway.”</p>
<p class="p1">I blew out an exasperated breath. “The spirits. They nearly suffocated me until I agreed to work this case with him.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Why?"</p>
<p class="p1">Trying to alleviate the sharp stinging from exhaustion, I rubbed my eyes. “I don’t know, Ramsey. I wish I did, but I think this is just going to be one of those wild rides they like to take me on.”</p>
<p class="p1">She nodded knowingly. There were many adventures the spirits had taken me on, and Ramsey watched me go through them all. “Trust that they’ll keep you safe.” She closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath. When she opened them, her eyes flashed purple with magic until he blinked again. “They promised me that they would. So they will, Zep. They will.”</p>
<p class="p1">Before I could respond with my nihilism, the roaring sound of an engine broke through the wall of serenity that enveloped me when I was with Ramsey. Her body stiffened. Instinctively, I stepped between her and the black muscle car barreling down the road toward her house. The wheels screeched to a halt as he parked the car parallel to the road. Her hand gripped my wrist tightly when he stepped out of the car, and her palpable fear weighed heavily on my chest.</p>
<p class="p1">Unfazed, Dean raised his arms wide in the air with an excited smile playing on his lips. “You ready, Zep?”</p>
<p class="p1">I rolled my eyes and turned my back to him. Everything about him screamed overcompensation and entitlement, and it made bile rise in my throat. What the spirits saw in him was beyond me, and by the look on Ramsey’s face, it was beyond her too. “I don’t have a good feeling about this, Zep,” she whispered into my ear.</p>
<p class="p1">“He doesn't know that you're a witch, and he doesn’t know what you mean to me, okay. What goes on between us stays between us. You know that, right?”</p>
<p class="p1">She nodded confidently, but there was still some apprehension in her voice when she spoke. “I know, I just don’t trust him.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Hmm, neither do I. But remember their promise. Remember what they promised you, Ramsey.”</p>
<p class="p1">Her hold on my wrist loosened and I felt the tension in her body melt away. Trust in the spirits was all we had for such a long time. Ramsey had full faith in their plan for both of us. This time around, her faith would have to be enough.</p>
<p class="p1">I reached into my pocket and handed her my key fob. “You take care of her, won’t you?”</p>
<p class="p1">Her playful smile surfaced as she closed her fingers around it. “Of course, Zep. Just stay safe, why don’t you?”</p>
<p class="p1">Desperately, I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to taste the honey from her morning tea on my lips, feel their softness as our mouths synced together, but I couldn’t. That wasn’t who we were anymore. I bit my lip and stuffed my hands in my pockets. “Pop the trunk for me?”</p>
<p class="p1">I packed my duffel full of amulets, oils and herbs, candles, and crystals that might prove useful. Neither of us knew what to expect in Savannah. All we knew was that John was missing and not answering calls. For all we knew, he was on a bender and dropped his phone on the side of the road. Whatever we encountered, I wanted to be prepared.</p>
<p class="p1">When my bag was packed, I shut the trunk and gave one last look to Ramsey. I smiled for her once more and walked down the sidewalk to Dean’s car. His arm was hanging over the window as he stood in the door. “Do you know how to not be obnoxious?” I teased.</p>
<p class="p1">He smirked, swimming in pride for what I sure he thought was his charming personality. “Only way to be.”</p>
<p class="p1">I chucked my bag into the backseat of the Impala and plopped down on the black bench seat. The doors creaked when we shut them; even the car was loud and obnoxious. Mentally preparing myself for what was sure to be the longest road trip of my life, I leaned back and sunk into the seat.</p>
<p class="p1">Dean revved the engine and shifted gears, making frequent glances in my direction as if I was supposed to be impressed by something. Though I couldn’t bear the thought I looking back, of seeing the look of concern on Ramsey’s face, Dean didn’t seem to mind. He waved his hand at her through the window before hitting the accelerator and rolling back down the road he came from. “Damn, she’s hot,” he said, licking his lips as he drove. </p>
<p class="p1">I rolled my eyes, doing my best to keep calm, even though Dean objectifying Ramsey made my cheeks hot. “Oh, is she?” I grunted and considered putting him under some kind of obedience spell. I could keep him in line, force him to do everything I said, while still honoring my ancestors’ wishes. Before I could even form the fantasy in my mind, I coughed, receiving their response. Fuck.</p>
<p class="p1">“So, I'm assuming you still haven’t heard anything from your dad,” I said, attempting to change the subject.</p>
<p class="p1">Without missing a beat, he said, "Radio silence.”</p>
<p class="p1">I pushed down the feeling of unrest in my chest and sighed. “Don’t worry, Dean. We'll find him. We’ll find him.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dean and Zephyra continue their trip to Savannah to find John.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Wind blew my hair behind me rolling down the highway with the windows down and 80s rock music blasting from the stereos. For some reason, I didn’t expect we’d be stuck listening to the same five cassettes on our way to Savannah, but here I was, bobbing my head to Metallica. It was all I could do to keep myself from falling asleep.</p><p class="p1">I was exhausted, and each time I began to nod off, my phone would vibrate with another message from Ramsey. There were some messages I ignored so that Dean wouldn’t ask me about them. Every time he noticed my phone buzzing in my lap, he’d look over, wondering who it was. Naturally, I responded by cutting my eye at him and gradually became more and more paranoid.</p><p class="p1">“You don't have to keep hiding your messages,” he said. Sunglasses covered his eyes as he drove. His t-shirt billowed under the breeze from having the windows down, making his muscled biceps even more visible than they were before. For someone who was worried if their dad was still alive, he seemed to be very relaxed. But, people processed things in different ways, so who the hell was I to judge?</p><p class="p1">I grunted in response, with the hope that he would get the message that I didn’t want to talk to him. Wasn’t it enough that I was trapped in a car with him, traveling multiple states to find a hunter that had a long list of witch deaths on his hands? Unfortunately, for him, it was not.</p><p class="p1">“Is it, uh, your boyfriend that keeps checking in on you?”</p><p class="p1">“Why does it matter?”</p><p class="p1">He leaned back, his shoulders relaxing on the back of the sat, and flashed me his pearly, white teeth. “I mean it doesn’t, you know. I was just wondering,” he stammered.</p><p class="p1">“No, it’s not my boyfriend.”</p><p class="p1">Out the side of my eyes, I watched his gaze soften and his grip on the steering wheel loosen. “So, uh, do you have one? A boyfriend?”</p><p class="p1">I crossed my arms over my chest and buried my heels into the carpet of the Impala. “Nope.”</p><p class="p1">Dean blew out a long breath and nervously raked his hand through his hair. “I’m not trying to piss you off. I’m just trying to make conversation, get to know you. This ride will be too long for us to just sit in silence.”</p><p class="p1">For me, silence was comfortable. Silence gave me the space to ponder the universe’s greatest wonders, and focus on not lashing out on unsuspecting hunters. “Why would you want to get to know me?”</p><p class="p1">His nails scratched just below his lip as he cleared his throat. “I don’t know. I figured there had to be more to you than being grumpy and pretentious.”</p><p class="p1">I snorted. “I’m not fucking pretentious.”</p><p class="p1">His tongue stuck out between his lips as he chuckled. “Yeah, Zep, you are.”</p><p class="p1">“If I’m pretentious, then I guess that makes you a pompous asshole,” I grumbled.</p><p class="p1">“Why do you hate me so much, Zephyra? What did I do to you, huh?”</p><p class="p1">I turned my entire body toward him, brows raised and mouth agape. I met his frustration with incredulity. Knowing what I knew about the lack of trust between hunters and witches, I couldn’t believe how he didn’t connect the very big, extremely obvious dots. “Could you be more obtuse?”</p><p class="p1">“Obtuse? How can I be obtuse when I don’t even know what that means?” Dean was oblivious to everything. How could he be so lucky? “Why do you hate me?”</p><p class="p1">Tension stiffened my muscles as I pulled myself back down, sitting appropriately in the seat. Outwardly, I tried to maintain a calm facade, but on the inside, I was filled with rage. “Why do you hate witches?”</p><p class="p1">Dean opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Words and ideas seemed to fly around in his head, but none of them stuck. He entered a pensive state where he gripped the steering wheel so tight, that his knuckles blanched, and his foot pressed harder on the accelerator, speeding the car up to uncomfortable speeds.</p><p class="p1">Finally, after deliberating with himself, he said, “So that’s what this is about. This stupid witches vs hunters shit?”</p><p class="p1">“It wasn’t stupid when you and your dad ripped through covens all across the country.”</p><p class="p1">“First off, that wasn’t me. That was some freaky vendetta my dad had, but it had nothing to do with me.”</p><p class="p1">“And what did whatever personal grudge your dad with one witch have to do with the dozens of covens he destroyed?”</p><p class="p1">Once again, Dean was speechless. With his free hand, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Look, my dad never told me what happened with the witch. I don’t know if he was looking for something she had, or if he was defending himself for something she did, but he didn’t go around killing witches just for the hell of it.”</p><p class="p1">“Witches don’t just kill for no reason. It is our job to protect people from demons and monsters, to keep this big, blue ball rolling.” I looked in his direction, gauging his reaction, but he didn’t give me one, which was a reaction in itself. “Hunters indiscriminately kill witches just for existing. In what world do you think that’s okay?”</p><p class="p1">“My dad did what he did to protect me and my brother. I can’t fault him for that. But I get it; I know what it’s like to lose someone you care about.”</p><p class="p1">Though I never explicitly mentioned my mother, he paid more attention than I have him credit for. It only made sense that I would be so angry only because someone I cared about was affected. It didn’t even register that I could be angry simply because it was wrong.</p><p class="p1">But I couldn’t ignore the sadness spreading from his thoughts to his muscles, manifested in his frown and the cracks in his voice. “Who did you lose?”</p><p class="p1">“My mother.”</p><p class="p1">I should have recognized the reluctance on the shortness of his response, but something made me push him. “Was it a witch?” I held my breath, hoping that it wasn’t.</p><p class="p1">Dean shook his head and started blinking rapidly, pushing down the feelings swelling inside. “No, actually, a demon killed her. I was just a kid at the time.”</p><p class="p1">My heart softened in a way I didn’t think possible. “Dean, I’m so sorry.”</p><p class="p1">“So am I. After that, my dad swooped me and my brother up and took us on the road trying to find the thing that killed her.”</p><p class="p1">“And did you ever find it?”</p><p class="p1">He shook his head slowly as if he were fighting a wall with every turn. His face tightened and tension slowly built in his jaw. His mother may have died a long time ago, but the feeling of loss and grief seemed to remain fresh. It was something I was all too familiar with, myself.</p><p class="p1">A sad smile stretched my lips as an offer of awkward comfort, but I wasn’t sure if he saw it since he was so focused on driving. Hearing about his loss left me with a weight on my chest as I remembered my own.</p><p class="p1">Grief isn’t a linear process. It was a wave of ups and downs, peaks and valleys, highs and lows. When my mom was killed, I had no answers. I had to guess as to who killed her and other leaders of our coven. We weren’t sure if it was monsters or demons, an accident, or fate.</p><p class="p1">On the evening of my twenty-first birthday, the spirits revealed a spell to me from our Book of Shadows, The Book of Gold Letters, and made me aware of how my mother died. There were no specific faces or voices that I could pinpoint, but I knew it wasn’t monsters or demons. I knew that their deaths weren’t accidental.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, Zep, are you okay?” The sound of his deep voice pulled me back from my thoughts, snapping me back into the Impala.</p><p class="p1">I focused my gaze on the highway, noticing the multitude of cars flying around us and the rows and rows of trees lining the interstate. Somehow, thinking about the things I had no effect on, had no effect on me, made my feelings more manageable.</p><p class="p1">“I see that look, hell, I know that look. Talk to me.”</p><p class="p1">My instinct was to argue, was to depreciate his perspective and deflect. Yet, I found myself in a place where that was no longer helpful. By no means did I trust this hunter, but knowing that he understood, that he could maybe relate, made all the difference.</p><p class="p1">I cleared my throat and slid a little closer to him. Wind was blowing into the cabin from the downed windows and I didn’t want to scream for him to hear me, but I didn’t want to roll them up. With each word spoken, the wind could carry them away and hide them until it was time for them to return.</p><p class="p1">“I, uh, I lost my mom too. I was a little kid, just like you, but I never really recovered.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “What happened?”</p><p class="p1">The images the spirits shared with me almost two years ago played in my mind as I spoke, like a silent movie. “My mom was murdered in a massive attack on my coven. Thankfully, I wasn’t there cause I was with Mama—”</p><p class="p1">“Wait, you have two moms?”</p><p class="p1">I nodded, half expecting some sort of homophobic, misogynistic remark, but continued when none came. “Mom was a witch, like me, grew up with the craft being a major part of her life. She was good at it, too. So am I, I guess, but it was expected since it was in our blood.”</p><p class="p1">“So you were born a witch?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah. There are several ways a witch receives her power. The most common, which I know you’re familiar with, is from a deal with a demon or a deity. Then, some are taught. Their magic has limitations, though. Some receive their magic from witches wanting to pass on their gifts in an intricate ceremony. The rest of us have magic in our blood.</p><p class="p1">“Mom was gifted. She was a leader, but all that was destroyed when she and the coven were murdered during a meeting.” A breath of air caught in my throat, blocking the path of my words.</p><p class="p1">My eyes fell to the ground of the car, so I could only hear the squeak of the vinyl seat when he shifted. “Do you know who did it? Who killed them?”</p><p class="p1">Emotions flooded my sense. My heart ached, my lungs tightened, the smell of her cotton candy perfume infiltrated my nostrils. “I didn’t for a long time. But a couple of years ago, the spirits showed me what happened. They hid the who and what from me.”</p><p class="p1">“W-why do you think they did that?”</p><p class="p1">I shrugged. “Probably because I wasn’t ready. Because they knew that the moment I found out, I’d hunt them down, tie them up and hurt them. I wouldn’t kill them, no, that would be too quick. I’d make them suffer, slice their skin with tiny cuts, millions of them covering every inch of their skin until they bled out or gave up the ghost.”</p><p class="p1">My eyes fell closed, squeezing away the tears that swelled in my eyes. Immediately, I regretted sharing that. With that confession, I was exactly everything hunters thought us to be: violent, vicious, and an insatiable taste for suffering.</p><p class="p1">Trembling hands touched my thighs and nails dug into the denim of my jeans. Until I opened my eyes and saw the brown hands and the chipped, black, nails, I hadn’t realized they were mine. “Fuck,” I muttered beneath my breath. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to be like this.</p><p class="p1">A rough, calloused hand landed on my shoulder. His touch was foreign to me but so familiar. It surprised me that I didn’t shrink back in response. “I get it, more than most, I think,” he said. “I’ve had the same thoughts, and I know my dad has. The things I’d do to that son of a bitch if we ever found him...” His voice trailed off as he got lost in his own fantasies.</p><p class="p1">“Anyway,” he said, bringing himself back to the present, “I get how you feel.” There was heavy pain in his voice as he spoke. Not only did he lose his mom all those years ago, he currently was afraid he lost his dad too.</p><p class="p1">I wiped the tears from my eyes using the bottom of my t-shirt and inhaled the snot threatening to drip from my nose. I was here, in this car, for a reason, and I couldn’t lose sight of that, even for my mom. I shrugged out of Dean’s grasp and turned back toward the window and the warm wind wiping my hair into my cheeks. “So when we get to Savannah, what’s the plan?”</p><p class="p1">He withdrew his fingers from my arm and scratched at prickling beard. “Actually, I looked at the map you used for your spell last night.” He reached into his pocket, lifting his hip slightly above the seat, and pulled out the charred piece of the map, and handed it to me.</p><p class="p1">More than anything, I was surprised it hasn’t ripped or crumbled to pieces in his pocket. Soot covered the tips of my fingers as I held it. My mouth fell open as I examined the piece of paper much closer than I had the night before. “Is that a street?”</p><p class="p1">Dean nodded, more excitement spilling through that simple movement than I had seen since I arrived at the motel last night. “I didn’t even realize it at first, but it’s zoomed on at North Fourth St, and Hamilton drive.”</p><p class="p1">“I’d done that spell dozens of times, and have never been this precise. The only other witch that was able to do that was—” I stopped myself before saying Ramsey’s name. I meant what I told her about not sharing who she was with Dean. She was, however, the only witch in my life I’d seen locate a target this precisely. “—Did you look it up?”</p><p class="p1">I fiddled with the paper, trying to sense if there was some other magic working in tandem with mine, but there was none. The only energy I could see was my own.</p><p class="p1">“Yea, I did," he said. I raised my eyes back to Dean and handed the piece of paper back to him. “Turns out, there’s a motel on that stretch of road, and right next to it, there’s a bar.”</p><p class="p1">I nodded, the pieces slowly beginning to connect in my head. “Okay, and those are two places where your dad might be.”</p><p class="p1">“Bingo. But that's not even the best part.” Dean paused for dramatic effect, darting his eyes between the highway and me as I anticipated his next words. “A couple miles from there is a crossroads. So, I did a little research when I was eating breakfast this morning, and ten years ago, there were several lottery wins, people making the papers for promotions…”</p><p class="p1">It all was starting to make perfect sense. “Demon deals. Your dad realized there’d be a demon in Savannah. He’s probably looking for the thing that killed your mom.”</p><p class="p1">“Exactly!"</p><p class="p1">“That’s great and all, but why did you wait until now to tell me if you figured this all out this morning?”</p><p class="p1">His shoulder kissed the bottom of his ear and a beaming glow colored his pale skin. It was as if Dean had experienced a new lease on life, and of course, he should. All of this meant that more than likely, his dad was okay, and not only that, but he was closer to killing the thing that destroyed his family. If only I should be so lucky…</p><p class="p1">He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel and bounced to the sound of the rock song humming low through the speakers. “I guess I was waiting for the right time, and good thing I did.”</p><p class="p1">“What the hell does that mean?" My voice was tainted with mock offense.</p><p class="p1">“You know, you were a little...stiff at first.”</p><p class="p1">My raised as I turned to him, flashing false anger in my eyes and cheeks. “Stiff?”</p><p class="p1">Dean laughed, the energy rippling through his chest and arms like a wave. “Yeah, like someone stole your candy, or ate your leftovers out of the fridge.”</p><p class="p1">A soft, genuine, smile curled the corners of my mouth up. “Yeah, I had my reasons.”</p><p class="p1">“And now?"</p><p class="p1">My head dropped, hiding my grin in my wild hair. “You’re only half as bad as I thought.”</p><p class="p1">Playfully, he beat his head against the steering wheel and turned the music up loud enough that I could feel the bass in my thighs. “Hey, that’s a massive improvement.”</p><p class="p1">I buried my chin in my shoulder and laughed. A week ago, if someone would have told me that I would be stuck in an American Muscle car with a hunter, laughing, and trauma bonding, I would have kicked their ass into next week. For some reason, the spirits wanted me here, and I was only beginning to figure out why.</p><p class="p1">Before Mom died, she was determined to lead our coven into becoming allies with the hunters again. Maybe working with Dean, helping him and his dad find and kill the demon that killed their mom, this would be the beginning of something my mother always dreamed of. Maybe this was my fate, my destiny. I just wished, more than anything, that she had been here to see it herself.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Zep and Dean arrive in Savannah and continue their search for John Winchester.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">After making a few stops to pee and eat, we arrived in Savannah with plenty of sunlight left in the day. Along the way, I took short naps, not enough to completely relax, but enough to keep my mind sharp. Realizing what I was here to do, I felt a sense of duty and purpose that I hadn’t felt since I turned twenty-one. It felt good, but it was also overwhelming that the spirits, my ancestors, entrusted me with such a hefty duty. I hoped I could make them proud.</p>
<p class="p1">Dean left me alone in the car while he checked us into a room at the motel he thought his dad was staying at, which gave me the first minute I had to myself since we began our road trip. My cell phone buzzed in my pocket, and my chest swelled with joy as Ramsey’s name popped up on the caller ID. “You miss me already?” I asked, teasing her over the phone.</p>
<p class="p1">I expected a laugh or even a light chuckle in response, but her worry seemed more prevalent than anything else. “Are you okay? Where are you?” Her voice was unusually panicked, which gave me pause.</p>
<p class="p1">“Ramsey, I'm fine. Dean and I hit Savannah not too long ago. We’re about to check in to a motel. Are you all right?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Yeah, Zep, I'm fine. I'm just...I'm just worried about you, that’s all.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Babe, worry never looked good on you, so stop it.”</p>
<p class="p1">She sighed into the receiver. "You seem to be in a much better mood than you were when you left here, this morning. Did something happen?”</p>
<p class="p1">My teeth grazed my lips as l looked out the window and into the front office of the motel. Dean was leaning against the counter chatting up the pretty clerk at the front desk. “Yeah, actually.” I slid up in my seat, remedying the restlessness in my bones. “Remember what I told you about the spirits, about how they basically forced me to work with the Winchester?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Yeah…”</p>
<p class="p1">“I know why now.” The elation I felt, poured into each word as I spoke them. “I think this particular guide might be my mom—”</p>
<p class="p1">“Zephyra…”</p>
<p class="p1">“Remember how she tried to unite hunters and witches, just like it was in the old days?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Zephyra…”</p>
<p class="p1">“I think that's what I'm doing here. I think that’s why they—she—wanted me to work with him. I mean, yes, he’s still a hunter and I’m still a witch, we’re different as all get out, but there’s so many similarities. I mean, when you think about it, how many hunters do you know actually come from happy homes, you know? Maybe if we can see those similarities, we can work together again, like it used it be. Men of Letters and The WISE saving people again. Maybe this is why I was pulled into mercenary work. All of it led me right here to this moment, and I am—”</p>
<p class="p1">I stopped mid-sentence, bringing a halt to my ramblings when I realized Ramsey hadn’t said a thing. There was no gasp or cooing. She wasn't sharing this thrill with me in the way she had in the past. Even through the phone, I sensed nothing but her except doubt. “What’s wrong?” I asked her.</p>
<p class="p1">Her tired groan reached my ears through the receiver. Hesitantly, she spoke, each word a careful selection from the swirling thoughts in her mind. “I believe you, Zep. I believe that you believe that this is your mother, that she wants you to follow the path that she laid the groundwork for almost two decades ago, but what if this isn’t her?”</p>
<p class="p1">The thought hadn’t crossed my mind. It all made too much sense to just be a coincidence. And why would the spirits, my ancestors lead me here if it weren’t for something like this? They nearly suffocated me just to get me in that car, to Savannah, GA to help a hunter and not just any hunter, but a Winchester. Second-guessing the spirits wasn’t like Ramsey at all. She was the most faithful, most devout witch there was. She was strong and smart and her intuition was always on point.</p>
<p class="p1">Her intuition was telling her that this wasn’t what I thought it was. That should mean something to me, make me rethink this whole thing, but every fiber of my being was telling me that this was more than a job. Meeting Dean Winchester meant something more than me padding my pockets. Even down to my locator spell, there was something extra that I’d never experienced before, so why would all of that happen for nothing?</p>
<p class="p1">“And what if it is?" I countered.</p>
<p class="p1">She sighed, and I could all but see her rubbing her temples in my mind. “I just don't want you to get hurt, Zephyra. I don’t want you to do something that you’re going to regret.”</p>
<p class="p1">I chuckled and dropped my head to my chest. “But isn’t that the point of life? Take chances? I mean, isn’t the biggest regret in life the things you don’t do simply out of fear?”</p>
<p class="p1">She scoffed. “I forgot who I was talking to for a minute. The same woman that ran away from me, ran away from everything we built together because she was too fucking scared to stick it out.”</p>
<p class="p1">Oxygen caught in my throat, sticking to my esophagus without any possibility of escape. Hearing Ramsey’s disappointment hurt but hearing her talk about what happened to us, that ripped a hole in my heart in a way I hadn’t expected. Tears dripped off the tip of my nose. I knew she still had to be mad about what happened, I get it, but I was doing something that would benefit more than just the two of us. Uniting with the hunters could change life for all of us, witches, hunters, and humans alike.</p>
<p class="p1">A knock on the Impala's window startled me. I jumped out of my seat, nearly dropping my phone, and wiped the tears from my cheeks. “Sorry, Ramsey, I’ve gotta go.” I rolled down the window and hung up the phone in one quick movement. “Hey, did you, uh, get our room?” I asked, Dean.</p>
<p class="p1">His sparkling green eyes narrowed as he took in how pathetic I must have looked. “You good, Zep?”</p>
<p class="p1">I pulled at a loose strand of my hair that was stuck to my wet cheek and forced a smile. “I’m good. We got a room?”</p>
<p class="p1">He waited, likely waiting for me to fall apart or retract my lie. When I didn’t, he hit the top of the car and leaned in the window. “Not only did I get us a room, but I talked to the clerk in there, and she told me that she recognized my dad. Told me which room he was staying in.”</p>
<p class="p1">I nodded, trying to refocus my mind. Dealing with Ramsey would have to be on the back burner like it had been for the last several months. Now, I had to focus on the task at hand, saving witch-kind. “So, what? You wanna break in, wait by the table lamp until he shows up?”</p>
<p class="p1">His eyes rolled up to the sky and he pursed his lips. “Wow, I was not expecting a Fatal Attraction reference. But, no. She said she’d seen him at the bar down the road.”</p>
<p class="p1">“The same bar you think the demon might have been scouting?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Yep! So, I say, we head there, grab some grub, and see if we can find my dad.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Dude we just ate!"</p>
<p class="p1">“Dude, that was three hours ago. I'm starving.”</p>
<p class="p1">He tapped the car again and walked around the front to the driver’s seat. As the car started back up and the music blasted from the stereo, I tried to return to the same rhythm I was in before I spoke with Ramsey. I trusted her, but deep down, I knew she was wrong this time.</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">***</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">Loud rock music blared as we walked through the doors and into the dive bar called <em>Talley’s</em>. The atmosphere was jovial. Some folks sat at the bar, sharing cocktails and boiled peanuts while others sat in high top tables watching a basketball game on the TV screens. A few people were playing pool and the old school arcade games in the back.</p>
<p class="p1">I turned to Dean who seemed completely in his element. Hunters liked places like this; it was easy to hustle some poor drunk or pry intel out of the barkeep. It was the hunting circle of life. “You see your dad?” I asked, my voice barely carrying over the sound of the blaring music.</p>
<p class="p1">Dean shook his head and scanned the room. “No, I don’t.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Should we go back to the motel? Wait for him there?”</p>
<p class="p1">Distracted by the waiter walking up to us, he didn’t answer. “How many?” the waiter asked.</p>
<p class="p1">I became mesmerized by the glitter on his cheeks and the blue liner lining his eyes. He was beautiful, the kind of beautiful that had me forgetting how to swallow. “Um, two, please,” I stammered.</p>
<p class="p1">The waiter met my awkwardness with a warm smile. Surely, people reacted to him like this all the time. “Cool, follow me.”</p>
<p class="p1">He led us to a booth in the center of the bar. I sat down with my back facing the door. Normally, I’d never take that kind of risk, but seeing the employee's only exit allowed me to be at ease.</p>
<p class="p1">Dean sat across from me and slid one is the menus my way when the waiter set them down. “Can we start out with two draft beers, uh, Gerry?”</p>
<p class="p1">The waiter, Gerry from the tag on his v-cut shirt, grinned. “No problem.”</p>
<p class="p1">Dean’s beaming smirk was obnoxious and a bit childish. “I think he likes you.”</p>
<p class="p1">My eyes dropped to the menu as I decided what I wanted to eat. “Or maybe he’s just good at his job. Thanks for ordering my beer for me, by the way.”</p>
<p class="p1">He plopped his menu back down on the table and folded his arms over it. I hadn’t meant to be snarky, but I’d been feeling off since my conversation with Ramsey. “Hey, Zep, what’s going on? I thought we were past this detached shit.”</p>
<p class="p1">Elbows on the table, I brushed hair from my face and sighed. “Sorry. I guess I’m just real anxious to get this over with, you know?”</p>
<p class="p1">Gerry returned to our table, dropped off our beer, and took our food orders. Froth covered my lip as I gulped down beer from the glass. It was hoppy and chilled rolling down my throat smoothly. Good beer was like medicine for my confused soul.</p>
<p class="p1">Dean’s glass clanged as he set it back down on the table, already half empty. “What are you doing here, Zephyra?”</p>
<p class="p1">My brows knitted together in the center of my forehead. “Like, why are any of us here? Meaning of life, shit?”</p>
<p class="p1">He raised a brow. “I mean why are you here? You parked your wheels, climbed in an old car with the kind of person you’ve despised your whole life, and now you’re here fighting my battles.”</p>
<p class="p1">At first, I considered a sarcastic answer; I was sure I couldn’t tell him the truth. I was still figuring out the truth if I was being honest with myself. All of these things, everything from the moment I accepted his call was out of the ordinary for me. Instead, I recalled the moment when I was seeing stars, my knees digging into asphalt when Dean asked me to join his adventure.</p>
<p class="p1">I propped my chin on my hands and dug my elbows into the table. “The better question is, why you invited me in the first place.”</p>
<p class="p1">His mouth twitched, shocked that I turned his own question against him. “Touché.” He relaxed into his side of the booth and looked around the room as if he was expecting someone to hear him share his secrets. “Honestly, I think you’re hot.”</p>
<p class="p1">I rolled my eyes but wasn't surprised. “Oh my gosh.”</p>
<p class="p1">“And I, uh, didn't want to come here alone.”</p>
<p class="p1">This answer was more shocking to me than the first. Curious, I leaned forward and softened the hardness of my voice. “Why wouldn’t you want to work your own case alone? Don’t you do that all the time?”</p>
<p class="p1">His teeth scraped against his lip and his eyes dropped back down to the table. Sorrow filled the sparkles of his eyes, causing them to dim slightly. It was enough for me to realize I’d inadvertently struck a nerve. “I’ve never been good at being alone. You know, it’s always been me, my dad, and my brother.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Your brother? You haven’t really mentioned him much.”</p>
<p class="p1">“He, uh, he walked away from it all, from us. Decided hunting wasn’t how he wanted to live his life and ran away to go to college.” Dean laughed, but there was no humor left in his voice. Pain caused a strain as he spoke, and his fingers nervously tapped the table. “With him gone, and now my dad—“</p>
<p class="p1">“Your dad isn't gone, Dean. He's here, somewhere.”</p>
<p class="p1">He licked his lips and smirked. "Yeah.”</p>
<p class="p1">Thankfully, Gerry returned to our table with Dean’s burger and my double bucket of Philly cheesesteak loaded fries. Earlier I ate some snacks and a couple fast food sandwiches, but a big knot in my stomach left me feeling less than hungry. I knew I’d regret it later, but for now, this would be enough.</p>
<p class="p1">In the short time I took to pick at the bacon and beef on my fries, Dean nearly inhaled his burger and was gnawing on his fries. “Damn, boy! I guess you were hungry, huh?”</p>
<p class="p1">His goofy grin forced a smile to my lips. Ketchup and mayo dotted his chin like acrylic paint. I gestured for him to wipe it and he complete missed it. I leaned over the table and dabbed a napkin, clearing the messy condiments from his face. “Thanks,” he said, mid-chew. “Is that really all you’re gonna eat?”</p>
<p class="p1">I licked salt off my hands and dropped the napkin on the table. “Yeah, I’m not super hungry.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Well, since you’re barely eating, I answered your questions, so it only fair that you answer mine: why did you hit the road with me?”</p>
<p class="p1">My gaze shifted to the other bar patrons. Women in low cut shirts with red lips and men more concerned with their game bets than anything happening around them left me feeling envious. It was a short, fleeting moment, but how nice it must be to be able to check out for a moment from the shit that kept you up at night? How nice it must be to feel safe?</p>
<p class="p1">I turned back to Dean and felt a twinge of guilt for not being fully honest with him. But he was a hunter, after all, and I didn’t trust him with truth...not yet. “I think I just had a feeling that this was where I was supposed to be.”</p>
<p class="p1">“And now?”</p>
<p class="p1">My cheeks tightened and my lips pressed together, allowing me the time to think about my answer. I sighed softly. It took everything in me not to collapse in a fit of my own self-doubt. There were more questions than there were answers, and nothing was making sense anymore. “Now? Now, I’m not so sure.”</p>
<p class="p1">Avoiding the pity in his eyes, my attention returned to the massive basket of fries in front of me. I picked at the chunks of beef and the salted and chive-covered fries, savoring every bite.</p>
<p class="p1">The booth shook as Dean pulled himself closer to the table, reaching his hand out to touch my fry-less palm. Sufficient distance between us, he wrapped his hand around my fingers and squeezed. It was a gentle gesture that pulled confusion from the wells of my gut.</p>
<p class="p1">Hesitantly, I raised my gaze, and all apprehension melted away. Beneath the warm, orange light of the lamp hanging over our table, his eyes seemed more hazel than the green I’d seen sparkle in the sun, but they were tender and focused.</p>
<p class="p1">He stretched his flannel covered arm further across the table and lifted my hand to his pursed lips. A shiver rolled down my spine as his lips grazed the back of my hand. “I, for one, am glad you came along with me.”</p>
<p class="p1">I blinked fast, unsure of how to respond to the sultry purrs that rumbled from his throat and into my ears, breaking through the drums and guitar riffs blaring from the overhead speakers.</p>
<p class="p1">My lips parted, expecting some kind of sassy retort to roll off my tongue, but only a gust of breath escaped. He moved his thumb back and forth across my hand and he hung his head, a smile cracking his lips.</p>
<p class="p1">I thought, maybe he was more than a hunter. Maybe he was some kind of human-succubus hybrid because I’d never felt anything besides anger and disdain for him. And now, with one stroke of his finger, I wanted nothing more than to feel my skin against his.</p>
<p class="p1">The sound of someone clearing their throat broke me from Dean’s masterful spell, and on some level, I was thrilled to see Gerry standing in front of us. He smiled, clearly aware of the moment he interrupted, and asked, “Can I get you guys anything? Another beer, or a cocktail maybe?”</p>
<p class="p1">I stared blankly at him, still unable to form words. Instead, Dean winked at our waiter. “Yes, actually, can you bring the check?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Together or separate?”</p>
<p class="p1">Dean raised a brow and looked at me as if I had the answer. When I gave him none, he answered for the both of us. “Together.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Five</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After getting sidetracked, Dean and Zephyra finally find John Winchester.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">“But. What. About. Your. Dad?” I asked between heavy kisses. I was amazed by how I was able to form words without breathing. Oxygen evaded my lungs as I inhaled him and he inhaled me, leaving no room for a cleaning breath. My fingers got caught in his hair as I dragged them through his brown spikes, feeling every dip and peak of his scalp.</p><p class="p1">The door to our motel slammed shut after we barreled through. “My dad’s a big boy, he’ll be fine for one more night,” he said, hoisting me even higher up on his hips, with my hair cascading around us like a curtain.</p><p class="p1">Hungry hands traveled the length of my back, digging into my skin under the t-shirt I was wearing. Each rake to my skin ignited my nerves and every kiss left me starving for the next. Lust fogged my mind, pushing down every thought that didn’t involve Dean inside me.</p><p class="p1">He stumbled backward, tightening his grip on me, and the bed broke our fall. My legs straddled his hips as I showered him with eager kisses of my own. He pulled me closer, his teeth digging into the brown skin of my shoulder, and his lips tracing the healing scar that was left there from a demon hunt...</p><p class="p1">A moment of clarity forced me to press my hands into his chest and push myself to a standing position. Catching my breath, I stepped back, wiping his saliva from my lips and pushing my hair behind my ears. “Fuck!”</p><p class="p1">He jumped up from the bed, clearing the distance I’d worked so hard to put between us, and pressed his fingers into my elbows. “Hey, Zephyra, you okay? What’s wrong?”</p><p class="p1">Thoughts and feelings whirled around me like they were stuck in a violent cyclone. I wasn’t sure what I was doing, if up was down or down was up. This wasn’t like me, and I was still in love with Ramsey. And on top of it all, I wasn’t here for this, but somehow, I wanted him so badly.</p><p class="p1">My finger skimmed his bottom lip and his teeth nipped me. He tasted like beer and bacon and I wanted him on my lips again. More than anything, I wanted him to taste me. “Are you sure about this?” I whispered as I traced his lips, stopping at his pronounced cupid’s bow.</p><p class="p1">“Abso-fucking-lutely.” His hands gripped my waist and he was pulling me back into him as if the thought of us not touching brought him physical pain. “Are you? Cause if you aren’t—”</p><p class="p1">I cut him off without a second thought. “I’m sure. I just—I want you to know this is just a one-time thing. Just to blow off some steam, okay? No strings.”</p><p class="p1">His lips grazed my collar bone while his fingers worked to unbutton my jeans, rekindling the greedy fire within me. “No strings.”</p><p class="p1">Without a second of pause, I was in the air again, my hair whipping my cheeks as he spun me around and lowered my back to the bed. I bit my lip watching him slip out of his jacket and flannel and tossing them across the room. I raised my feet and had him pull off my boots and socks, all while reveling in the movement of his biceps.</p><p class="p1">My bare feet tickled his abdomen, egging him on to take off his shirt. Luckily for me, my message was well received. He pulled his shirt over his head, giving me the gift of his freckled chest. Like the goofball he was, he flexed his pectorals and lowered himself on top of me, with a brass-looking pendant hanging from a black cord around his neck.</p><p class="p1">I became suffocated by his kisses again and transfixed by the sparkle in his mossy green eyes. My head fell back and my eyes closed, allowing me to savor every sensation for which he was responsible. His hands explored beneath my shirt, pushing it up as his lips pressed my belly button and just below.</p><p class="p1">I stopped him, pressing my hands into his chest. His attention became hyper-focused on my eyes. “What? Are you okay? I’m not hurting you, am I? If this doesn’t feel good I can do something else.”</p><p class="p1">I smiled, charmed by his concern. It was a rare sight for a man to be interested in the pleasure of anyone except himself. “You’re not hurting me,” I purred. “I just...You don’t have to rush. I’m not going anywhere.”</p><p class="p1">His hungry eyes relaxed under the sound of my voice. “Good. Neither am I.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1">At first, I thought I imagined the creaky sounds of the door being picked, but the tickle on the tip of my nose from the ancestors led me to believe it wasn’t a remnant of my dream state. I jerked upright in the bed, the heavy arm Dean had around my waist fell into my lap. I tapped his shoulder and attempted to wake him.</p><p class="p1">I expected him to startle, to jump up like I did. Instead, he groaned, smacked his lips, and whined, “What? You wanna go a fourth time?”</p><p class="p1">I pushed him again, more forcefully this time. “No, asshole, someone’s trying to break into the room. Get your ass up!”</p><p class="p1">He sprung up and leaned over the edge of the bed to grab his gun. I snagged his shirt from the bottom of the bed—since he was a foot taller than me, his shirt would cover more of my exposed body than mine would—and sparks began to flicker on the tips of my fingers.</p><p class="p1">I stood next to the bed at full alert as the door to the motel room swung open, slamming against the wall behind it. A middle-aged man with a gray beard, a worn leather jacket, and a switchblade in his hand entered the room. His dark eyes landed on me and the magic sparking on my hands. I raised them, charging a jolt of electricity.</p><p class="p1">As it left my fingers, Dean leaped across the bed and snatched my waist, pulling me back down to the mattress. “Dammit, Zep, stop!” I fought against him, kicking and wailing my arms. In the tussle, I aimed my power to the intruder again, the burst hit the frame of the door after he ducked, avoiding contact”</p><p class="p1">“Fuck, Winchester, what the hell is your problem?” I said at the same time the man said, “You’re sleeping with a witch?”</p><p class="p1">Dean froze and I used that small opening to roll off the bed and to my feet. The man walked toward me, but Dean crossed the bed and stood in front of me with his hands outward. “Stop, dad. She’s here to help.”</p><p class="p1">My mouth fell open and I looked at Dean with wide eyes. This man that broke into our room, this man I just tried to kill was John Winchester. “Oh shit,” I exclaimed.</p><p class="p1">The man—John Winchester—knelt down and picked up a pair of jeans off the floor and threw them at his son. “Put some damn clothes on, boy. What the hell were you thinking?”</p><p class="p1">I narrowed my eyes and glared in John’s direction. “You know, we could have avoided all of this if you had just knocked like a normal person.”</p><p class="p1">Dean hopped from one foot to the next, quickly stepping into his jeans. “Sorry, Dad,” he mumbled.</p><p class="p1">I blinked my eyes, wondering what the hell I was seeing. Dean, loud and obnoxious, smug and conceited as he was, regressed into a child when his asshat of a father entered the room. I stepped forward and touched the tight muscles on his shoulder, grabbing his attention. “What the hell, Dean? Don’t apologize. You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”</p><p class="p1">“He sure as hell does,” John snapped. “What the hell are you doing here? Did I tell you to come?”</p><p class="p1">John was a hair shorter than Dean, but from the moment he walked in, Dean seemed to shrink. He hung his head, ashamed. “Sorry, Dad. When I didn’t hear from you—”</p><p class="p1">“And why the hell did you bring a witch?”</p><p class="p1">“I asked for her help to find you.”</p><p class="p1">John stepped closer to us, the switchblade still primed for action in the palm of his hand. “Hold your head up when you’re speaking to me, son.”</p><p class="p1">Dean’s jaw tensed and he jerked his head upward, his chin almost adjacent to the ceiling. His entire body went rigid beside me. “I said, I asked her to help me find you when you didn’t answer your phone.”</p><p class="p1">“Why?”</p><p class="p1">“I was worried, sir. I wanted to have your back if something did happen.”</p><p class="p1">“And you thought we’d need back up from a witch?” He said witch like it was a slur, coated in venom and spite.</p><p class="p1">Against my natural instinct, I grinned so wide that my cheeks stung. “I’m a lot more useful than I look, Mr. Winchester.” I held out my hand out to him. “My name is Zep, like Led Zeppelin, but not.”</p><p class="p1">He eyed my hand but refused to shake it. I dropped it back down to my sides when he turned to his son, acting as if I’d never spoken. Being a Black, queer, southern woman, it wasn’t the first, nor would it be the last time a white man responded to my kindness and courtesy in the way John had.</p><p class="p1">I teetered back and forth on my heels, considering my next maneuver as John glared at his son. “You got an answer for me, boy?”</p><p class="p1">“No, sir,” Dean said as if he were speaking to a drill sergeant in the Marines and not his own father.</p><p class="p1">Seeing their interaction made every annoying thing about Dean’s personality make sense. Not only did he lose his mother when he was a kid, but he grew up with a revenge-obsessed drill sergeant instead of a dad.</p><p class="p1">John backed away, walking back toward the door. He looked around the room and the clothes we’d stripped off the night before. He turned his back to us, and even then, Dean remained firm with his squared stance and arms behind his back.</p><p class="p1">“Get dressed, son, and get out of here. I got wind of a case a few hours from here.” John turned back around and glanced in my direction. I could recognize the look of disdain in his eyes from two hundred miles away. “And drop the witch. She ain’t good for nothing now.”</p><p class="p1">A humorless laugh erupted from my lips, shaking my shoulders free from the strain of all of John Winchester’s bad energy. Out the corner of my eye, I saw Dean reach out as if to stop me. What he didn’t know was that it was too late for that now.</p><p class="p1">I shuffled forward, my feet dragging on the carpet. “Speak for yourself, Mr. Winchester.”</p><p class="p1">His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t move. “What did you say?”</p><p class="p1">I pushed my chest up and out, mocking him and spoke louder and clearer this time. “I said, speak for yourself, Mr. Winchester.”</p><p class="p1">Dean dropped his facade and grabbed my arm, pulling me back in his direction. He looked mortified that I would dare stand up to his dad. “Zephyra, don’t.”</p><p class="p1">I snatched my arm from his grasp. “No, Dean. Are you kidding me? You dropped half a band to have me track this asshole because he refused to answer the damn phone. He had you so scared out of your mind that something terrible happened to him, but he tells you to scram, drop your whore, and work a case he found? I’m sorry, Dean, but your dad is full of shit.”</p><p class="p1">John scratched at his beard, his lips tugging in a lopsided grin. “Like I said, little girl, you both need to leave.”</p><p class="p1">He made a sharp turn for the door, but my telekinesis is faster, stronger. He pulled at the door, trying to yank it open, but I stopped him, keeping him locked in a room with us, with me.</p><p class="p1">Spit flew through the air as he spun, rushing toward me. Ire and rage-filled the veins in his eyes as he lurched forward. If Dean hadn’t stepped in when he did, John may have knocked me on my ass. Dean grabbed the collar of his dad’s shirt and shoved him backward. “Dammit, stop! Both of you, stop!”</p><p class="p1">John backed down at his son's surprising act of aggression. He leaned against the wall closest to the door and caught his breath. “Who the hell is this bitch?”</p><p class="p1">“Call me a witch, or call me a bitch, John, but the song remains the same,” I began. “If you were as smart as you think you are, you’d recognize that I can help you.”</p><p class="p1">Dean looked at me, brows knitted together and lips pursed. “Zep, pack your stuff. Let’s go.”</p><p class="p1">I shook my head and dug my heels into the carpet. “We know why you’re here,” I said to John. Dean’s eyed widened with shock.</p><p class="p1">“You don't know shit," John said, heading toward the door again.</p><p class="p1">“We know why you're here. We know you’re here to find the demon that killed your wife.”</p><p class="p1">As soon as the words were out of my mouth, it seemed as if all the oxygen in the room had been sucked out. I held my breath, unsure of what was going to happen next. John was a loose cannon, and with him here, there was no telling what Dean would do. I just hoped that his itch for vengeance was stronger than his fear of his dad.</p><p class="p1">The look of betrayal contorted John’s face as he turned to his son. “You told her?”</p><p class="p1">“She can help us find the crossroads demon, dad.”</p><p class="p1">John dropped his head and pinched the bridge of his nose in the same way I’d seen Dean when he was getting frustrated. He sighed heavily before lifting his chin and meeting my determined gaze.</p><p class="p1">Working with hunters meant I had to learn to not only read their energy, but also their body language. His lips twitched and he kept trying to force his way out of the room. John was being shifty. He was hiding something.</p><p class="p1">I smirked and took smug steps toward him so that Dean was no longer standing between us. “You don’t need our help finding the crossroads demon, do you?” I waited, expecting a twitch of the lips or a flare of his nostrils. “You know exactly how to find the demon because you’ve already found it.”</p><p class="p1">Dean gasped behind me. Though I couldn’t see him, I surmised he was pretty pissed that his dad was trying to hide this from him. “Is she right?” he asked his dad. There was a sliver of hurt in his voice that made me question my distaste for him.</p><p class="p1">“I can help you, John. So, don't be stupid. Don’t be a stubborn son of a bitch.”</p><p class="p1">He rolled his lips together, wetting them with his tongue and folded in arms over his chest. Got ‘em. “And how can you help?”</p><p class="p1">“Not only can I help you trap the demon, make it give you the answers that you want, but I can show you how to kill it.”</p><p class="p1">His eyes bugged open and his jaw dropped. Finally, I said something that grabbed his attention. He dropped his arms to his sides and walked up to me, no longer showing his intimidating facade. “How?”</p><p class="p1">I inhaled a deep breath. I'd never shared anything about our secrets with hunters before. Hunters had a propensity for being gutless, vile, arrogant pieces of shit. But if I was going to unite us again, it would take a great act of trust, on their end, and on mine. “There is a book. A very old, very powerful, very strong book. And in it, there’s a spell to kill a demon.”</p><p class="p1">Dean slid next to me, seemingly just as shocked as his dad was. “You’re telling me, you can kill a demon, and not just send it back to hell?”</p><p class="p1">I nodded and locked my eyes on John. “So are you going to pass up this once and a lifetime opportunity because of your simpleminded bigotry, or are you going to let me help you get revenge on the demon that destroyed your family?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Now that they've found John, Dean and Zephyra tackle a crossroads demon.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Though the drive to the crossroads from the motel was maybe seven or ten miles, it seemed to stretch for much longer and a thick, tense, silence filled the cabin of Dean’s Impala. His face remained in a scowl for much of the ride. Considering how goofy and talkative he had been before, his silence was worrying.</p><p class="p1">After I told John about the spell that could be used to kill the demon, Dean seemed to be more himself, but still bending to his dad’s every desire. Deep down, I felt sorry for him. How terrible it must be growing up with a father that put his revenge ahead of his own son. But for Dean, his family was his entire world, I just wished John could see that. And maybe he did and just didn’t give a fuck.</p><p class="p1">The sun rose over the horizon as we rolled down the empty road that led to the crossroads that John found and identified as the same one those people used to summon the demon in the first place all those years ago. According to John, eight were killed and only one was left surviving. Unable to find the final victim, he decided the best course of action was to summon the demon himself. It was risky, but what risk wouldn’t you take if it meant getting revenge for the person you loved?</p><p class="p1">Guilt lined my stomach. Thoughts of love and family made my mind wander. Absently, I checked my phone, hoping to have received a missed call or message from Ramsey. I hated how we left our last conversation. It baffled me that one minute she had full trust in me and the spirits, and next, she was full of doubt for us both. Ramsey knew what happened to not only my mother but to her aunt. She knew what it would mean to me to fulfill my mother's dream in the same way that she had for her aunt when she named our bookshop after her.</p><p class="p1">She didn't have the same faith in me that I had in her, that much was evident. Fears of me getting hurt or doing something I’d regret were just the tip of the iceberg. Ramsey knew that I had a habit of being petulant and angry, but she also knew that I typically found creative ways to express that anger, most often through magic and witchcraft. And if all the anger was put toward something as amazing and fruitful as reuniting the witches with the hunters, wasn’t that a good thing? What could I possibly regret about that?</p><p class="p1">The car rumbled over the gravel road, snapping back into the Impala with an enraged Winchester behind the wheel. Looking out the window, I realized that we were no longer surrounded by dive bars and eccentric shops. Between us and John was a luscious field of greenery, sliced up by four gravely and dusty roads.</p><p class="p1">Dean slowly rolled the car into a halt and put his Baby in park. He kept the key in the ignition and waited, eyes focused on his dad rummaging through his own car just ahead. His hands were balled up into fists in his lap and his brows were tightly knitted together in the center of his forehead.</p><p class="p1">Unsure of what he was waiting for, I cracked an ill-advised joke to smooth over the tension between us. I may not have liked Dean, but I needed him to be an ally if I wanted my mom’s dreams to become a reality. “Hey, you constipated or something? Trying to poop something out?” He remained still like an untouched statue. “What’s going on?”</p><p class="p1">He blinked and hung his arm over the steering wheel with his hands still balled into fists. “What the fuck was that back there, Zep?”</p><p class="p1">Playing coy, I shrugged. "I don't know what you mean.”</p><p class="p1">“You just couldn't take no for an answer, huh? My dad told us to leave.”</p><p class="p1">I nodded slowly. "Yeah, he did, but neither of us came here to get kicked off the case because your dad is a bigot and he still treats you like you’re twelve.”</p><p class="p1">He bit into his lip so hard, I was shocked that no blood dripped from his mouth. “You don’t know shit about my dad. And you don’t know shit about what he thinks of me.”</p><p class="p1">“Okay, maybe I don't." I slid over on the seat so that I was closer to him, close enough to force him to make eye contact with me. “But you and I both know why he’s here, why he wanted to push you out. I mean, come on, Dean. You went to breakfast and you figured it out! You figured it all out! The demon, the victims, the reason why your dad came here. <em>You</em> did that, Little Engine that Could.” I dropped my head, incredulous to the thoughts screaming in my own mind. “As much as it pains me to say it, Dean, you’re a damn good hunter. And if your dad can’t see that, it’s because he’s a self-absorbed piece of shit. But if you can’t see it, well, then that’s just a damn shame.”</p><p class="p1">He didn't say anything or react, at first. He seemed lost in thought or trying to decide if he wanted to be a dick or not. When he finally moved, he released a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of his emotions. “Were you lying about the spell to kill a demon?”</p><p class="p1">Truth be told, I had forgotten all about my confession. At that moment, I believed sharing that golden nugget of information was the best way to keep us here in Savannah. It was the only thing I could do to make John realize the benefits of having a witch on his side. The spell was real, very real, but I wasn’t one hundred percent sure I could pull it off.</p><p class="p1">The spell had been worked by witches of my bloodline several times before, but I’d never tried it since I never had occasion. If I fucked this up, not only would we have an angry demon on our hands, but I’d also have two pissed off hunters on my tail. And if nothing else, I wanted to keep my tail hunter free.</p><p class="p1">I softened my tone and tilted my head to the side, the wild curls on my head flopping to one side. “It wasn’t a lie. I know a spell that could kill this demon and any demon like it.”</p><p class="p1">“And where is this book you were talking about?’</p><p class="p1">I chuckled and leaned back on the seat. “I can’t tell you.”</p><p class="p1">“So how do we know if you’re telling the truth? How do we know you aren’t just yanking our chain?”</p><p class="p1">“When we embarked on this lovely journey of ours, I asked you to make me a promise. I asked you to keep me safe from you and your dad. That took trust, a lot of trust, actually.” I jerked my head back toward the direction we’d just come from. “Back there, you showed me that you planned to uphold that promise.”</p><p class="p1">The muscles in Dean's face and back seemed to relax a bit. He dropped his arms from the steering wheel and laid them lackadaisically in his lap. “I keep my word.”</p><p class="p1">“Exactly! But how was I supposed to know that back in that motel room in Virginia, huh? I had to trust you. Not a lot, but enough to get in this car.” Dean rolled his eyes, clearly following where I was going. I continued, tucking my hair behind my ears. “So you need to trust me. Trust that the spell exists, that I’m here to help you. Trust that I will keep my word to you and your dad, and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you both get your hands on this demon.”</p><p class="p1">His hard grimace fell into a lopsided grin and he raked his hands through his hair. “You’re pretty amazing, Zephyra. Fucking amazing.” His voice was soft and kind, and I could feel the sincerity in my bones. His hand left his lap and squeezed my knee. The look in his eyes seemed to be more than just mutual admiration.</p><p class="p1">I peeled his fingers from my skin and offered him a sympathetic smile. “Dean, remember what we talked about last night. Remember what I told you.”</p><p class="p1">There was nothing I could do to avoid the hurt in his eyes. I was sure that it wasn’t often that a guy as good looking and charming as Dean Winchester got turned down. Normally, I liked putting arrogant assholes on their asses, but this time, it felt different. Regardless, my message came across clearly, and Dean reluctantly withdrew his hands and pulled the key from the ignition of the car. “Yeah, sorry. My bad.”</p><p class="p1">“Good, ‘cause we’ve got work to do.”</p><p class="p1">Leaving the awkwardness behind in the car, Dean and I got out of the car and joined John in the center of the crossroads. In his hands was a small, metal container that, no doubt, held graveyard dirt, a black cat bone, a sprig of yarrow, and a picture of Mr. John Winchester himself. It was what one would need to summon a crossroads demon.</p><p class="p1">“We’re here, dad,” Dean announced as we walked up to John. “You ready?”</p><p class="p1">John flashed me a look of disdain as if he still wasn’t completely convinced that I deserved to be here. A little bit of skepticism was healthy and to be expected; it would take me working the spell to convince him that my word was worth something. “Yeah, I’m ready.”</p><p class="p1">The heels of my combat boots crunched the gravel beneath my feet. “So what’s our plan here?”</p><p class="p1">John set the container on the ground in the center of the crossroads, though he didn’t bury it yet. “The plan is we summon the thing, trap it, and torture it.”</p><p class="p1">I scrunched up my face, trying to convey my lack of satisfaction with his answer. “Let me rephrase: what <em>exactly</em> are we doing here? Step by step, like I’m dumb, please.” John looked at me like I was the kid in class that kept asking questions keeping the class longer than intended.</p><p class="p1">It became crystal clear to me that he wasn’t used to be questioned. When he told Dean to do something, his only follow up would be to ask how high. Even more than that, I was a lowly Black female witch that was chipping away at his authority.</p><p class="p1">Too bad.</p><p class="p1">I rolled my eyes, trying my best to remain calm. “I’m only asking because knowing exactly what we’re doing limits variables. And variables lead to people getting hurt.”</p><p class="p1">“No ones getting hurt,” John finally said, his voice low and gruff, “except for the damn demon, okay?”</p><p class="p1">“I think we can both agree to this which is why I’m asking. I mean, what kind of trap do you plan on setting anyway?”</p><p class="p1">John glanced at Dean and rubbed his hands down his face and into his graying beard. “Since you know every damn thing, why don’t you tell me, Zephyra, what kind of trap I’m gonna use.”</p><p class="p1">He spat my name like it was laced with venom. I squared my shoulders, refusing to be pushed around and bullied by him. “Devils trap,” I said confidently. “It’s the only trap.”</p><p class="p1">Dean looked to me quizzically. “The hell is a devil’s trap?”</p><p class="p1">“It’s a pentagram with Enochian symbols drawn with it. It keeps demons stuck and renders them powerless until it’s broken. We, having not been possessed by demons, can walk in and out of them without a problem.”</p><p class="p1">Dean nodded, processing the new information. It boggled my mind that Dean knew nothing about them, while his dad seemed to know so much. “Okay, so how do we do this?”</p><p class="p1">John chucked a can of red spray paint in my hands and tossed another to Dean. “Here, use this to draw the trap.” He pointed toward me. “You, show him how to do it.”</p><p class="p1">“Your wish is my command," I grumbled, walking past him to begin spraying the devil’s trap on the gravely ground. It wasn’t an ideal location, but it was all we had. Dean stood across from me, eagerly waiting for me to impart my magical wisdom. I knelt down, planting my feet into the ground and bending my knees. “Okay, we start with the circle.”</p><p class="p1">“Does it have to look perfect?" he asked, copying every movement I made.</p><p class="p1">“No. I don't know many witches who can draw perfect circles, besides, magic is all about intent. If you intend for it to be strong enough to hold the demon, really focus your energy on it, and draw the right symbols, it should be fine. Just follow my lead, okay?”</p><p class="p1">He followed every direction I gave him, completing the circle I had begun. Next, we started working on the pentagram in the center, and one by one added the Enochian symbols to complete the devil’s trap. When we were done, I stood back and admired our work.</p><p class="p1">Dean tried hard to suppress the smile forming on his lips when he looked at me, proud and probably mesmerized by the paint smudged on my cheek. “Does it looks right?” he asked.</p><p class="p1">I patted him on the shoulder. “You did good, Winchester. You should follow my lead more often.” I raised my arm, magic buzzing on the tips of my fingers, and waved my hands, and camouflaged the red spray paint. If the demon didn’t see or sense the trap, we’d be safer. All of us.</p><p class="p1">John squeezed between us, interrupting the conversation between us. “All right. You two stand back, okay? I’ll do the talking.”</p><p class="p1">I could have argued, but it wouldn’t have done me any good. John was a stubborn son of a bitch, and being direct and headstrong clearly wasn’t going to get me anywhere with him. I just hoped that the big mistake he made wouldn’t cost any of us our lives.</p><p class="p1">I stood back, flanking John's right side while Dean flanked his left. Dean shrugged out of his flannel a while ago, leaving his arms exposed and sweat dripping down the collar of his shirt.</p><p class="p1">He seemed nervous, biting into his lip and bouncing from one foot to the other, which made me wonder if Dean had ever encountered a demon except for the one that killed his mother. I wouldn’t be surprised; demons were relatively rare most of the time. They often remained in the shadows, taking a vessel here or there, or making deals to put butts to seats in hell.</p><p class="p1">So it would make sense that he knew so little about them if he was focused on ghosts and poltergeists or werewolves and wendigos. But if he could handle all that the world of monsters had to offer, then he could handle this. He just didn’t know it yet.</p><p class="p1">John knelt down to dig a shallow hole in the ground for the container. While he dug, I watched how close his knees had been to the pentagram and it nearly made my heart jump out of my chest.</p><p class="p1">“Wait,” I hollered, keeping my eyes focused on the red lines of spray paint. “Be careful not to displace any of the gravel. The moment that trap is no longer connected, is the moment we’re all fucked.”</p><p class="p1">John cussed, though I wasn’t sure if he intended for me to hear it or not. “I know how to work a damn devil’s trap.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, sure you do,” I said with a bit of sarcasm in my voice. “I just wanna make sure we all make it out of here in one piece. That’s all.”</p><p class="p1">“And we will if you both do as I say.”</p><p class="p1">Once the container was completely covered in gravel and dirt, John backed up, careful not to disturb the trap. No more than a couple of seconds passed by before a woman with short, black, hair and bright blue eyes appeared a few paces behind the trap. “Well, well, well. What a surprise,” she said. Her voice was melodic as if she had permanently been singing a blues ballad. She blinked, and when she reopened her eye, all parts of her eyes where bright red.</p><p class="p1">John stepped forward, one hand on the gun at his side. I kept my fingers primed with magic and ready to act if need be. It didn’t matter what John loaded his handgun with, it wouldn’t do much against the demon. I hoped he knew that.</p><p class="p1">The demon smirked and stepped forward. I held my breath, hoping that its next step would land in the trap. If it didn’t, we were screwed. “John Winchester, what a pleasure,” it purred.</p><p class="p1">John grunted, keeping his eyes focused on his prey. “Random Demon Number 5, the pleasure is all mine.”</p><p class="p1">The demon chuckled and it’s gaze landed on Dean. He stiffened, and I became hyper-aware of the fear prickling his skin. “And you brought your little boy to work today, huh, John? That wasn’t very smart. Actually, it’s a pretty dumb move for the infamous John Winchester.” The demon licked at its lips and snapped its teeth in Dean’s direction.</p><p class="p1">I was impressed by Dean’s ability to stuff his fear down and so easily shift into the cocky asshole with a devil-may-care attitude that I had become accustomed to. He shook his head from left to right, mocking the demon. “Bite me, bitch!”</p><p class="p1">The demon’s smirk widened as if it was turned on by Dean’s demeanor. And with one glance in my direction, it’s sexual desire turned into pure curiosity.</p><p class="p1">Witches worked with the energy of the earth, so we had a good taste for what energies came from what. One witch could sense another witch due to our higher levels of energy. But because we were created to protect humanity, we were gifted with the ability to sense the energies of demons and monsters. Luckily, monsters and demons had no such ability, unless they were very old and very learned.</p><p class="p1">I kept my breath trapped in my chest as the demon’s eyes flashed red. It was trying to read me, sense what I was. It raised its finger in the air and waited as the energy around us all swirled. It closed its eyes and stuck it’s finger into its mouth, tasting the energy in the air. If it could identify what it was, it wouldn’t demolish our plan, but it would know to be in high alert and would be careful to avoid the trap set right in front of it.</p><p class="p1">When its eyes flicked open, they were blue again and narrowed. It titled it’s head to the side and frowned. “And <em>what</em> the fuck are you?”</p><p class="p1">I took a calculated step forward, ignoring the frustrated looks from both John and Dean, and grinned. “It doesn’t matter who I am. All that matters is that you’re going to answer some questions, or you’re going to regret climbing your way out of hell.”</p><p class="p1">Just as I hoped, my taunting brought the demon forward, and I felt the magic in the devil’s trap take hold. It was only a few seconds later, that the demon tried to saunter toward us, but was blocked by the magical barrier created by the trap. It screamed, banging its palms against the invisible wall, to no avail.</p><p class="p1">I jerked my chin toward John, as a message for him to go ahead. Surprisingly, he listened without arguing or yelling at me. But I would follow his lead until the safest thing to do was to not follow.</p><p class="p1">“What the hell?” the demon exclaimed, pounding the invisible barrier between us. I waved my hands, revealing the red lines of the trap. The demon looked down and around as realization set in. “You stupid, sons of bitches! Let me out! Now!”</p><p class="p1">John circled the demon, taking slow steps that crunched the gravel beneath his feet. “Not until you tell me what I want to know.”</p><p class="p1">“What? No deal? If you make a deal then I’ll tell you anything you want!”</p><p class="p1">John stopped and my heart dropped into my shoes. We never talked about making a deal, but if it was a sure-fire way to get what he wanted...</p><p class="p1">“The only deal that will be made is the one where you tell me the name of the demon that killed my wife, and I let you go.”</p><p class="p1">The demon dropped its hand at its side and clenched its hands. “No, I can’t.”</p><p class="p1">“Then I guess we’ll be stuck here for a while then.”</p><p class="p1">“No, please! Please let me out!”</p><p class="p1">John spun on his heels, his eyes boring into the demon’s eyes with intensity. “Tell me the name of the demon that killed my wife!”</p><p class="p1">“I can’t!”</p><p class="p1">“Why not?” John tapped his finger against the handgun holstered at his hip.</p><p class="p1">The demon began to panic, its eyes darting from John to Dean to me, and then back to John again. “Do you know what they’ll do to me if I tell you?”</p><p class="p1">John lowered his voice, though I could see the anticipation causing tension all over his body. “Right now, you should be more afraid of what we’ll do to you.”</p><p class="p1">He nodded to me and I raised my hand in the air. I inhaled a deep breath and visualized myself wrapping my hand around the black cloud of smoke that was the demonic spirit possessing an innocent soul. I squeezed, weakening it. Small clouds of black smoke fell out of the demon’s mouth, causing it to choke. It held its hands to his neck as if that would stop the pain burning through its ravaged spirit.</p><p class="p1">When I dropped my hand, the demon clutched it’s chest and sucked in a sharp breath. It bent over, keeping its back parallel with the ground. “I can’t tell you!”</p><p class="p1">Quickly, John’s demeanor toward me shifted. There was still a sense of distrust, but at least now, he knew I was as powerful as I said I was. “Can’t or won’t?” he asked the demon. John continued to circle the trap, averting his eyes only to give me permission to act each time the demon refused to answer.</p><p class="p1">There was no way I could be completely sure how many times I heard the demon scream. Over and over again, it claimed that it couldn’t share the information we desired. And over and over again, I gripped its shadowy soul and tightened my magic grip on it, choking its very essence. It was something my Mama taught me.</p><p class="p1">Once I was old enough, she took me with her to work cases. It was never some obsessive revenge that had me combing through ancient texts and studying demon and monsters; that was her. She wasn’t John. But she wanted me to know everything there was for me to learn. And one of the tricks she taught me was how to make any demon my bitch.</p><p class="p1">This one wasn’t any different.</p><p class="p1">The demon fell to its knees gasping for air. Gravel and dirt-filled its nails and between its fingers as it dug into the ground. It was weakening. It was only a matter of time before it finally cracked. Before it would give us what we wanted.</p><p class="p1">On my left, Dean was leaning against his dad’s truck, one arm crossing his chest and the other bent, nails chipping away between his teeth. The anxiety that filled him was overwhelming. But there was nothing he could do but wait and watch. And stay safe.</p><p class="p1">John, on the other hand, was becoming rabid with impatience. I knew he wanted this demon’s name more than anything, but he’d have to remain calm for us to get it. I knew he knew that, but the sweat falling off his brow and landing on the bridge of his nose left me worried. One move, one moment of unbridled rage, and it would be over.</p><p class="p1">The demon’s head flung backward and its eyes were aimed toward the sky. I dropped my hands. I’d never seen a demon react like that. Had I killed it? Had I gone too far? I stepped forward, careful to maintain a healthy distance from the trap, and peered into the crimson eyes of the demon.</p><p class="p1">It’s grimace, full of pain, seemed to slip away, quickly being replaced with glee. It’s grin widened, and its fists became unclenched, releasing gravel and dirt back to the ground. I stood mouth agape, wondering where I went wrong. I’d done everything just as I was taught, just as I had done hundreds of times before...</p><p class="p1">John came to a halt, on the opposite side of the trap. His hands shook at his sides and his lips turned up in a snarl. The demon turned around, putting its back to me and Dean, and released a chilling crack from its mouth. Every nerve in my body stood at attention, and I whispered a prayer to the ancestors.</p><p class="p1">“What’s so damn funny?” John asked, spit flying out the corners of his mouth.</p><p class="p1">Still on its knees, the demon tilted its head down a bit to meet John’s ferocious glare. His eyes were like sharp daggers, even more feral than the glare he’d given me. My heart quickened with worry.</p><p class="p1">The demon’s voice was now a pitch or two higher. “Why, you are, John. You are so funny.”</p><p class="p1">“So this is a fucking joke to you?” John took a step forward.</p><p class="p1">“I could give you the name of the demon.”</p><p class="p1">“Then do it!”</p><p class="p1">“Surely, they’d eat me alive downstairs for doing it, but considering the way he killed your wife, I can only imagine what he’d do to you.”</p><p class="p1">John took another step toward the trap. Magic buzzed on the tips of my fingers. If he moved any closer...</p><p class="p1">John gulped hard. I chanced a glance at Dean, and I immediately regretted it. He’d pushed himself off the truck, sweat dripping from his armpits and the collar of his shirt. His eyes were tainted with terror.</p><p class="p1">“What are you talking about?” John asked through gritted teeth.</p><p class="p1">The demon shoved its hands into the ground to create enough force to stand up. Its legs wobbled under the weight, but it was up. “You don’t know how she died, so you?”</p><p class="p1">“The fire.” John’s voice cracked in a way I never thought I’d ever hear from the infamous witch hunter. “He burned her alive.”</p><p class="p1">The demon shook its head. “Have you ever wonder what it’s like to be shocked by lightning?” My throat tightened. “For all that electricity to run through your body just to find its way to the ground? I mean, once is bad enough, but what that demon did to Mary...His lightning bounced around her body, up and down, side to side, even went sideways a few times, ripping through her blood vessels, each of them exploding inside her.”</p><p class="p1">I kept my eyes on John. It was bad enough that I could hear a quiet whisper slip out of Dean’s mouth. I couldn’t see his agony too. Unlike Dean, John wasn’t overcome by sadness. Each word the demon spoke ignited a new level of rage within him. One wrong move...</p><p class="p1">“She screamed like the little bitch that she was. She screamed until her throat bled! And her screams became choking gurgles, but it didn’t matter.”</p><p class="p1">“Shut up!” John screamed.</p><p class="p1">I stepped around the trap, trying to get to John.</p><p class="p1">“When the electrical current ripped through her body, he torched her. And she could feel every single lick of the fire.” The demon gripped its abdomen, seemingly pained from laughing. “She smelt her own flesh turn to beef jerky!”</p><p class="p1">“Shut up!”</p><p class="p1">“John, stop!”</p><p class="p1">“She was alive when her skin started to melt off, when her cooked meat started to fall off her bones like a prime rib.”</p><p class="p1">“Shut up!”</p><p class="p1">“Dad!”</p><p class="p1">“John!”</p><p class="p1">Neither my legs nor my hands were fast enough to stop him. He stepped forward, disrupting the trap, and wrapped his arms around the demon. I pulled at his shirt, Dean pulled at his waist. Maybe if we got him off, maybe we’d have enough time to fix the trap. Maybe...</p><p class="p1">John’s elbow connected with my jaw, and a sharp pain vibrated through my face. I stumbled backward, blinking my eyes to quickly regain focus. “Tell me the fucking name! Tell me the fucking name!” John’s screams sounded more like animalistic growls like they climbed out of his gut from years of evolution.</p><p class="p1">“Dad, stop!” Dean yelled. The muscles in his arms tightened as he gripped his dad’s fingers, trying to peel them off the demon’s neck. All the while, the demon cackled. Now that the trap was broken, it had access to his power, just as it had planned.</p><p class="p1">In a split second, I looked past them and at the can of spray paint rolling in the bed of John’s truck. I raised the hand that wasn’t nursing my aching jaw to bring it to me. It flew through the air and snapped into my palm. As the shuffle continued, I knelt down, trying to redraw the circle for the trap. If the trap was back up, we could get John off and try again.</p><p class="p1">Red paint sprayed out of the canister onto the ground, connecting with the red marks Dean and I had created not too long ago. “No!” Pain burned through my wrist as the demon’s foot connected with my hand, sending me backward on the ground. Gravel bit into my back and arms.</p><p class="p1">I looked up through narrow eyes, wincing through the pain. The demon raised its head toward the sky and a cloud of black smoke shot into the air. It swirled over our heads for a moment before rushing away in the direction of the town.</p><p class="p1">Exhausted, I lowered my head to the ground and tried to catch my breath. I couldn’t stop the hot tears from rolling down the corners of my eyes. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. I was going to help them. I was going to fix everything. Make my mom’s wildest dream come true. I was supposed to do it all.</p><p class="p1">I didn’t recognize my name on Dean’s tongue until he leaned over me with worried eyes. “Zep, you okay?”</p><p class="p1">I groaned, allowing him to help me to a sitting position. “I’m fine, I just...everything hurts.”</p><p class="p1">White teeth flashed as he smiled. He raised the hem of his shirt and started wiping away at the tears and on my cheeks. “Never thought I’d ever see you cry.”</p><p class="p1">I pushed away and chuckled. “If it were up to me, you wouldn’t have.” My eyes caught blood just above his eye socket. M wrist and jaw must not have been the only casualties in the scuffle. “You okay?”</p><p class="p1">Dean nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine.”</p><p class="p1">“And your dad?”</p><p class="p1">I didn’t have to wait at all for my answer. John pushed Dean on the ground and away from me, and held me up by the collar of my shirt. “You said you could handle the fucking demon, witch!”</p><p class="p1">Droplets of spit landed on my cheek, and I closed my eyes for a second, hoping to avoid it landing in my eyes. When I opened them again, John had one fist in the air, primed to be introduced to my face. It wouldn’t be the first time, and certainly won’t be the last. “You crossed the trap, John! That wasn’t me, that was you!”</p><p class="p1">“You let it get away! You said you could hurt it! Kill it!”</p><p class="p1">“I was getting there! But you couldn’t keep your feelings in check! So if you’re gonna hit me, then fucking do it! Fucked up jaw and twisted wrist, why not add to the damage, John’ Cause you let the fucking demon get away! You did that!”</p><p class="p1">Pure rage glimmered in his eyes. I had full confidence that he would have done it had Dean not yanked him off of me. Using my good wrist, I pushed myself to my feet and pulled one of my karambits from their holster inside my boot. John was pissed, and I wasn’t sure even Dean could keep him in check.</p><p class="p1">John tried to tackle me again, put Dean decked him in his cheek. He stumbled backward, shocked that his son would do such a thing, especially to protect a witch like me. “You’re going to protect her? You’re gonna chose her over me?” John hollered, pointing his hand in my direction.</p><p class="p1">Dean stepped to his dad, toe to toe and nose to nose. “You touch her and I’ll punch you again.”</p><p class="p1">“You’re a fucking child, you know?” He snapped at his son. He rubbed his palm against his cheek where Dean hit him, but he turned away. “She did this, you know. She’s the one that has a knife pulled. She’s the one that let them demon get away. Dammit, Dean! All it takes is a pretty smile and manipulative words and bam! You’ve got a witch in your head! Since when are you so stupid?”</p><p class="p1">Each word cut me like a knife, and I wasn’t even the one he said them too. I couldn’t begin to imagine how Dean was feeling. “She had it, Dad. I believe her when she says she had it.” Dean jammed his finger into his dad’s bloated chest. “But you lost control. You did this, not her.”</p><p class="p1">John snatched Dean’s finger and shoved it down before turning away, lifting the tailgate on the bed of his truck. “See, this is why I wasn’t going to tell you about this. This is why I was going to handle this demon by myself.”</p><p class="p1">I gripped my wrist, the pain radiating down to my elbow being far worse than the pain pulsing through my jaw. Each step I took toward them was labored, but I’d been beaten up before, and I was a tough bitch.</p><p class="p1">My voice cracked when I spoke, not out of fear, but from the pain wreaking havoc on my body. I hoped John didn’t mistake it for weakness. “If Dean and I weren’t here, you would have died. That demon would have killed you because you are reckless and emotional. That demon played you like a fucking fiddle because you can’t exercise self-control. You almost got me and Dean killed. And now because of you, that demon is possessing some other poor soul, making more demon deals, which I thought was the very thing it was your job to prevent.”</p><p class="p1">John locked the tailgate and started toward the door of his truck. I kept going, refusing to back down, even if he was just going to run away. “And for what, John? Cause you still don’t know the name of the demon that killed your wife. You didn’t get the information you wanted, and now innocent people are going to get hurt. Again.”</p><p class="p1">He stood in the doorway of his truck, turned away from Dean and I. I continued. “So you hop in your truck, close that door, and start that engine. And as you drive off, know that you can’t blame me for this. You can’t blame your son. You did this, John. You selfish son of a bitch.”</p><p class="p1">His silence was resounding. Without saying another word, he climbed into his truck, started the engine, and drove off, kicking dust in our faces as he went. With John gone, I tucked my karambit back into the holster inside my boot and I turned to Dean, sorrow filling my eyes. “I’m sorry, Dean. About all of it. About not being able to keep my promise.”</p><p class="p1">He shook his head, though he wasn’t able to force a smile to his lips. He came so close to getting revenge on the demon that killed his mother, just for this to happen. Not only did we fail to get a name, but he had to hear what happened to his mother on that night. That kind of pain cut deep.</p><p class="p1">“It’s not your fault,” he said. He huffed out a heavy sigh. “Your wrist looks swollen.”</p><p class="p1">I shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”</p><p class="p1">He walked behind me, putting his hands on my shoulders, and gently directed me toward the back of his Impala. I stood awkwardly as he popped the trunk and started ruffling through his locked compartment and several bags. “There it is!” he exclaimed, pulling out a roll of bandage wrap.</p><p class="p1">His movements were slow and gentle as he wrapped my wrist, doing his best not to cause even more pain. I found myself smiling as his tongue poked out between his lips as he concentrated on wrapping my wrist. I couldn’t contain the giggle climbing up my throat.</p><p class="p1">“What?” he asked.</p><p class="p1">“I’m proud of you, dude.”</p><p class="p1">He didn’t look up as he spoke. He remained focused on wrapping my wrist. “For what?”</p><p class="p1">“For standing up to your dad. That must have been scary, considering how pissed off he was.”</p><p class="p1">Dean shrugged. It was no surprise to me that he’d minimize standing up to his asshole of a father. “I couldn’t let him start wailing on you, could I?”</p><p class="p1">“Actually, you could have.”</p><p class="p1">Pleased with his work, he cut the bandage and pressed on the adhesive to keep it closed. When he was done, he looked at me. “I told you I wouldn’t him hurt you.” His fingers were warm on my skin as he touched my cheek to look at the bruise likely forming on my jaw. “And apparently I really suck, ‘cause you got hurt anyway.”</p><p class="p1">I jerked my chin away and lowered my eyes to the ground. I didn’t want him doting on me like this. I didn’t want him looking at me like I was something to protect. “That was an accident. No one could have stopped that.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m still sorry about it.”</p><p class="p1">I sighed and brushed the hair from my eyes. Suddenly my body became heavy and tired. Using so much of my magic, and getting my ass kicked by both John and the demon left me feeling worn out. “Yeah. Me too.”</p><p class="p1">Dean leaned against his car. “You sure you okay?”</p><p class="p1">Slowly, I nodded. “Yeah, I just...I didn’t mean for it to end like this, you know. I mean, we’ve got more problems than we started with, and now we’re going to have to find that demon. It’s probably making deals all over the place. We’ll have to stop it.”</p><p class="p1">Dean stood and closed the trunk. His keys jangled in his hand as he directed me toward the front of the car. He held the door open for me and leaned on it until my but was comfortably in the seat. “Yeah, but we’ll handle that after we get some food and rest up. We won’t be any good if we rush out there half-cocked, right?”</p><p class="p1">I leaned my head against the back of the seat and laughed. “Is this was of telling me that you’re starving again?”</p><p class="p1">He rubbed his stomach his dimples poked through his cheeks as he smiled. “Yeah. If I don’t get some grub I’m gonna waste away, and we don’t want that, do we?”</p><p class="p1">I didn’t even bother trying to hide my laughter. Dean Winchester was utterly ridiculous, and yet, I agreed with his logic. If we were hungry and run down, we wouldn’t be any good to anybody. So, I nodded. “All right. Let’s eat, Winchester.”</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Seven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dean and Zephyra debrief after their altercation with the demon.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">It had been more than a few months since I’d sung in the shower, but it had always been healing. Songs, words, instrumentals, were all agents of healing. No, it wouldn’t ease the pain in my face and wrist, but it would calm the anxiety sitting in my throat. It was all I could manage at the time.</p><p class="p1">The length of my hair fell past my shoulder blades like it did when it was wet. Once it dried, it would shrink up to its natural length in coils and curls. I liked it better that way. I wrapped it in an old t-shirt to keep it from dripping when I changed into a new set of clothes. I slipped my boots back over my socked feet, careful not to put too much pressure on my wrist.</p><p class="p1">I hoped the heat from my shower would help a little, and it did, but it was certainly still swollen like a fucking melon when I rebandaged it. With a twisted wrist, I was left open and vulnerable, but not completely. Yes, my hands were the instruments I typically used to use my magic, but they weren’t my only tools. I just hoped I wouldn’t need to use them.</p><p class="p1">The door to the motel swung open as I stuffed my dirty clothes and detangling brush back in my bag. After he brought me back to the motel, Dean left again to get food and talk with his dad. Even though he stood up to the old, grumpy man, it was his dad, and he couldn’t leave things like they were.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, was that you singing?”</p><p class="p1">I flashed a sheepish grin. “Yeah, was it annoying you while you were talking to your pops?”</p><p class="p1">He shut the door, dropping the plastic bag in his hand on the kitchenette table. “No, not at all. Your voice is beautiful.”</p><p class="p1">My cheeks got hot hearing his compliment. “Well, aw-shucks, thanks.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m serious. I’ve never heard a voice like it.” He dropped his keys on the table next to the bed and plopped down in one of the chairs. “Did your mom teach you how to sing, too?”</p><p class="p1">I zipped up my bag and joined him at the table. He pulled out a burrito and a bottle of extra sweetened tea. My mouth watered. “No, I’ve always kind of known how to sing. But my mama kept me in the school choirs as I grew up. What about you? Can Dean Winchester belt out a blues ballad?”</p><p class="p1">He chuckled and reached over to help me open my bottle of tea and unwrap my burrito. “A little, I guess. But nothing like you.”</p><p class="p1">“Maybe one day you’ll sing for me, huh?”</p><p class="p1">He sipped on his soda set it back down on the table. “Oh, no. I don’t think so.”</p><p class="p1">“Why not? You heard me sing, I should hear you sing. And since quid pro quo is kind of our thing...”</p><p class="p1">Opening his own burrito, he shook his head. Honestly, I was surprised his burrito survived this long from the fast food place he got it from. “Is it?” His eyes dropped to his food and his hand reached up to rub the back of his head. “I mean, I thought we’d kind of gotten past that, you know?”</p><p class="p1">“What do you mean?”</p><p class="p1">Nervously, he cleared his throat. “I mean, I know you don’t have feelings for me and all, but I’d like for us to be kind of friends, you know?”</p><p class="p1">I laughed and bit into my lip. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized I felt completely relaxed sitting across from a hunter. From John Winchester’s son. “Wow. I mean, if you told me we’d be having this conversation two days ago, I would have laughed in your face.”</p><p class="p1">His shoulder lifted in a short shrug. “Well, from this end, it kind of looks like you’re doing that anyway.”</p><p class="p1">I laughed again, even harder this time. “Yeah, but it’s different. I’m not laughing <em>at</em> you, I’m laughing with you.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, Zep, thanks for clearing that up,” he said sarcastically.</p><p class="p1">I shifted my weight forward in my chair and leaned my arms on the table. “Yeah, Dean, I, uh, guess I’d be okay with us being friends.”</p><p class="p1">His moss-green eyes lit up as his face beamed with life. “Shit, I’ll drink to that.” Both of us raised our respective drinks and clinked them in the air between us and drank.</p><p class="p1">“How’s your wrist?”</p><p class="p1">I nibbled on my burrito. “It hurts like hell, but it’s fine. I’ll be fine.”</p><p class="p1">“Good, ‘cause we’ve got work to do. I just talked to my dad and we’re both thinking the demon’s probably back at the same bar he visited last time. We were gonna check it out whenever you got ready.”</p><p class="p1">I covered my mouth—Mama taught me manners—until I was able to swallow my food. “About that…” Dean’s eyes narrowed and he leaned back. “I was actually packing my shit. I was gonna head out and let you and your dad deal with the demon.”</p><p class="p1">“Why?” There was a hint of disappointment in his voice that I couldn’t ignore.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know, I just figured you’d be better off without me. I mean, your dad still hates me, and quite frankly, I don’t really want to be around him right now. Besides, you’re a good ass hunter, Dean. You’ve got this. I know you do.”</p><p class="p1">The plastic paper around his burrito crinkled as he shoved it to the side and leaned across the table. “What the hell, Zep? I thought you were gonna help me fix this? I mean, if it’s my dad, I can try and convince him to stand down.”</p><p class="p1">The desperation in his voice tugged at my heart. I couldn’t imagine what it was like for him, to be pushed aside by his brother and his dad and still want to stop the world for them. But John was his family, and I decided that I needed to leave. I failed to help them, but if I stayed, I wasn’t sure it would help in any way, and being useful was the easiest way to stay alive.</p><p class="p1">I thought it over the entire time I was in the shower, and by the time I got out, my decision was clear. “No, Dean. He’s your dad. He’s your family. I couldn’t help you like I wanted to, like I said I would, and I think it’s time I leave you be.”</p><p class="p1">He rubbed his hand down the length of his face and sighed heavily. “Dammit, Zep, you’ve done everything that you possibly could. Hell, you helped me find my dad in the first place. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably still be trying to run down cold leads.”</p><p class="p1">I nodded, smiling at him. “Don’t sell yourself short. Yeah, I definitely sped up the process, but I know you’d figure out on your own. But there was so much more at stake here, Dean. Besides, I’ve got some other work that I’ve gotta do.”</p><p class="p1">“Well, since there’s no convincing you to stay, maybe I could drop you off somewhere. I mean, you’re in no shape to just be out there by yourself. Maybe my dad can get another hunter out to help him clean up here, and I can take you back to North Carolina, to your car.”</p><p class="p1">His offer was endearing, but I couldn’t accept it. Right now, I felt the need to be on my own. I reached my good hand across the table and squeezed his hands. “Thanks, but I think I’m gonna walk for a while, maybe commune with the ancestors tonight, regroup.”</p><p class="p1">“If you’re gonna stay in town for that, then you can keep your stuff here. Dad and I can find the demon and send it back to hell, and I can drive you back to North Carolina. That way I know you’re safe.”</p><p class="p1">I squeezed his hand again and smiled. “Dean, this ain’t goodbye. This is see ya later, okay? I mean, I thought we just worked out this friend thing, and you’ve got my number. Call if you need me if you just wanna chat. I mean, there are other cases we can work, I just...I need to be alone right now, dude.”</p><p class="p1">Silence hung in the air between us as he slowly decided to concede. He raised my hand that was wrapped around his and kissed it, his lips gently brushing my skin. “Don’t be a stranger, Zep—” He stopped himself, as if a thought suddenly flashed through his mind, and laughed. “You know, I don’t think you’ve ever told me your last name.”</p><p class="p1">Typically, I didn’t share my full name with hunters. As a witch, I was always taught that there was magic and power in our blood and hair. People could use it to work curses and bring harm, and with names, it was the same thing. But Dean was my friend, now, right? He didn’t know it yet, but he was the hunter that was going to help me join witches and hunters again. When the time was right.</p><p class="p1">My teeth grazed my lip as I stretched them into a grin. “Dean Winchester, it’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Zephyra NightWolfe.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Zephyra takes a moment to herself and is contacted by the spirit of her dead mother.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Moonlight bathed my skin as I veered off a walking path. I welcomed the distinct smell of pluff mud from the marsh that wasn’t too far from where I was. Spanish moss hung from oak trees to create a beautifully eerie view overhead. Dried leaves crunched beneath my feet as I stepped over deep, thick roots.</p><p class="p1">The song of Saltmarsh Meadow Katydids filled the air, covering the silence with their chirps. Savannah reminded me so much of my home in Charleston. From the marshes to the smell of pluff mud, the massive live oak trees, and the quiet roar of the river never being too far away.</p><p class="p1">The water always brought me peace. Even when I was down and depressed, anxious and afraid, tired and drained, the sound of waves crashing against the sand, or currents rolling over rocks slamming into cypress trees always made me feel safe. And after the last few days, feeling safe was necessary.</p><p class="p1">I left the Winchesters to clean up their own mess so that I could be alone. I may not have been able to give them what they wanted, but striking up a pseudo friendly relationship with Dean was clearly the plan from the ancestors. If it wasn’t, they wouldn’t have let me walk away.</p><p class="p1">For now, maybe it was enough that we were on good terms. Maybe I’d been moving too fast trying to put the old order back in place. If that was my duty, my path, I hoped it would be enough. I hoped I would be enough.</p><p class="p1">Far enough from the trail, I stopped and laid my bag on the ground. I tilted my head up toward the moon and whispered an incantation that created an orb of soft, white light overhead to provide me with enough light to complete my ritual.</p><p class="p1">The silver glow lit up the ground around me. I knelt down and used my good hand to open my bag and laid out the thin blanket I kept with me at all times for instances such as this. The dark threads were woven in with bright colors to create a beautiful image of the triple goddess: the maiden, the mother, and the crone.</p><p class="p1">One by one, I surrounded the blanket with black and white candles to create a protective circle around me. Once they were placed appropriately, I gathered my herbs and crystals: Black obsidian, lapis lazuli, amethyst, labradorite, and a bundle of mugwort. I created a grid using the crystals and placed the lit bundle of mugwort in cast iron bowl to contain the ashes as smoke billowed into the darkness of night.</p><p class="p1">I pulled bread and wine out of my bag to use as offerings to my ancestors, just like my mama taught me. I set them on the blanket in front of me and leaned back on my heels, exhaling a deep breath. I rubbed the bandage wrapped around my swollen wrist and closed my eyes to begin casting my circle.</p><p class="p1">I spoke loud into the void around me as I called on each element and their respective directions. North, the element of earth, East, the element of air, South, the element of fire, and West, the element of water. With each utterance, a force of wind blew around me, lifting my hair off my neck and swirling in the gale.</p><p class="p1">Whispers flew through the air, tickling the canals of my ears and kissing my injuries. “I call to spirit. May your light imbue me knowledge and guidance. May you lead me in whatever direction you would have me go.”</p><p class="p1">I opened my eyes and the circle of candles around me were lit, filling the blue light from my orb with reds and yellows and oranges. The flames created a force of warmth around me.</p><p class="p1">Before I could revel in the beauty swirling around me, my head snapped backward, my eyes lifting to the sky, as my awareness became sucked into the astral plane. There was only a short moment when I didn’t hear anything or feel anything. I was simply a force of energy floating and existing.</p><p class="p1">I sucked in a breath of air and found myself in a room with tall, wood-paneled walls, covered in bookshelves and ancient-looking paintings. All around me were people, mostly women, in bohemian style skirts and dresses, and wide-legged pants. Most of them were Black, with wild, curly afros, Jheri curls, and short, straight bobs with that bump on the bottom.</p><p class="p1">I wasn't home anymore; not in my time.</p><p class="p1">People rushed about, gathering decorative items and setting bowls of food and bottles of wine on the dark mahogany tables set before them. I walked down the stairs in front of me to the central pit where a massive table was set with knives and glasses. Around me, magic swirled through the air, catching in my lungs as I gasped, taking in the sight.</p><p class="p1">My knees felt weak when I finally laid eyes on her. Her aura was bright and full of pastel colors that lit up the room almost as much as her smile. Her curly hair fell in ringlets, covering her eyes, and the rest were held up by a bright blue Scrunchie at the back. Her curls swayed and bounced as she crossed the room, directing others in the directions she wanted them to go.</p><p class="p1">It was then that I realized where I was: in the bunker in Charleston, where the Wise used to meet for coven meetings. The place where my mother, their High Priestess, spent much of her time. And here she was, glowing, smiling, anxious, but excited, the great Willow Nightwolfe in all her pure, unadulterated glory.</p><p class="p1">It was the night she died.</p><p class="p1">My heart quickened and I rushed to hold her, to embrace her, and smell the sweet scent of vanilla and patchouli. When I reached out to her, my arms swam through her and she turned away, not even noticing me. I knew it would happen; this was a vision. A vision I’d had before, but something about this felt different.</p><p class="p1">”Alright,” Mom said, clapping her hands and smiling, seemingly satisfied in the effort she and her coven had put into getting things ready. “The hunters should be here at any moment.”</p><p class="p1">The witches gathered around the table, nervously awaiting the arrival of their guests. Even though I knew they were coming, the heavy knock on the door made me jump out of my skin—it would have if I had been in my skin in the first place. Mom floated over to the door of the bunker and yanked it open with fierce excitement.</p><p class="p1">The last time I had this vision, I was twenty-one and only saw smudges instead of faces. My jaw dropped as the spirits revealed the faces of the hunters to me.</p><p class="p1">Seeing them knocked the wind out of my lungs. Hunters that I’d helped, even if for a large payment, were responsible for my mother’s death.</p><p class="p1">Mom smiled and stepped aside, allowing the hunters to enter the bunker. There were maybe seven of them, clad in flannel and leather, and empty-handed. No beer or wine, no cakes or champagne as a gift for the waiting hosts. Just like last time, I was appalled that my mom didn’t pat them down, make sure they didn’t bring in any weapons, but I knew it was a show of good faith. She was desperate for this to work. She wanted witches and hunters to rejoin forces and would do anything she could to make it happen.</p><p class="p1">A lump formed in my throat watching a hunter with a leather jacket and a dark five o’clock shadow shake my mom’s hand. I knew him. I knew him well and tried to bottle my rage. If the ancestors only wanted me to know who, they would have sent me back home already. Instead, I tried to focus, and remain calm. I didn’t want to miss what they wanted me to see.</p><p class="p1">“Come in, please!” Mom said. Other witches ushered the hunters into the bunker, pulling out chairs and pouring wine into their glasses. The hunters sat back, enjoying how they were being treated like kings and queens. All of it made me sick.</p><p class="p1">Mom stood at the head of the table and cleared her throat. Witches and hunters alike claimed their conversation and looked on at their glowing leader. “Thank you all for coming! I asked you all here for this meeting because we have an important task at hand. For decades, generations, witches, and hunters have worked together to maintain equilibrium on this earth. After demons ravaged the Men of Letters over two decades ago, we are here to reunite the two sides.”</p><p class="p1">Mom looked over the hunters’ faces. Most of them seemed excited, thrilled, even. Others looked disinterested in the whole matter. She raised a brow and groaned. Though there were a couple of dozen people in the room, her gaze remained fixed on one hunter.<em> Him. </em> “You look like you have something to say,” she said to him.</p><p class="p1">He leaned back in his chair, certainly a move to signify he was the alpha in the room. “You know I’m here for it, Willow, but I don’t get how working with witches is going to turn the tide against demons and monsters.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m sure you’ve all heard the stories about our book, the Book of Gold Letters.” An audible gasp sounded around the room. “It is my hope, that with our continued partnership, we can use the book to regain control.”</p><p class="p1">He stood up, twisting the gold wedding ring on his finger, and walked toward my mother. I knew what was coming. I knew what he did, and it made my hand clench into fists at my side. “Why don’t you just, hand it to us? As, you know, an act of trust between witches and hunters?”</p><p class="p1">Mom stiffened but tried to maintain her calm demeanor. Anyone with eyes could tell that she was uncomfortable with his suggestion. But she wanted this to work. She wanted to reunite us all. She swallowed hard and took a step back from him. “This book was entrusted to witches. We can use it to help when necessary, but we cannot give this to you.”</p><p class="p1">“And why the fuck not?” he asked, hostility brimming in his voice. I stepped closer to him, wanting to protect my mother, even though I was just an observer, not really existing in this time.</p><p class="p1">Mom stepped back again, her gaze shifting as she looked to her coven for assistance. She inhaled a deep breath and confidence pushed through her aura. “This book has spells that no mortal should lay eyes on unless it was urgent. We in this coven are trained to deal with the magic inside these pages. So if you want to use this magic, you will rely on us, just as we rely on you to hunt.”</p><p class="p1">The hunter turned around, rolling a toothpick between his fingers. “See, Willow, that doesn’t work for us.” Around the room, hunters began to push their chairs backward, scratching them along the floor. They stood, dark, intimidating glares fixed on their faces. “You can give us the damn book, or—“ he looked around the room in dramatic fashion, and turned his gaze back on Mom. “You can give us the damn book.”</p><p class="p1">She held her firm gaze and planted her feet on the ground. “No. I won’t give it up.”</p><p class="p1">She started to speak, to say something else, but any words she had didn’t matter. The hunter revealed a knife in his hand and shoved it in her gut with a movement that was smooth and quick. Violence exploded between the witches and hunters around them, but all my focus was on the hunter and my mother. He knelt down as her knees dropped to the ground and her hands clutched her gut where the knife had been shoved into her.</p><p class="p1">Blood dripped from the corners of her mouth and tears rolled down her golden cheeks. She reached her hand out, gripping his leather jacket between her fingers. “Please,” she begged, “I need to get home to her. To my daughter. Please.”</p><p class="p1">The hunter lowered his lips, brushing them against her ear. “Tell me where the book is, Willow.”</p><p class="p1">Mom tightened her lips in a hard line and shook her head. “I won’t tell you,” she vowed. And without a bit of hesitation, the hunter pulled the blade out of my mother’s stomach and stood. The wicked grin on his lips as he swung the blade in his hand, slicing mom’s throat would be etched into my brain forever. She gurgled, reaching up to him, but it was too late. “Zephyra.”</p><p class="p1">Mom collapsed on the ground, her body falling into a heap along with the other witches in the coven. The room became overwhelmed by cries: for help, for the children waiting at home, for the gods. But nothing saved them from bleeding on the ground, eyes frozen open, arms rising toward the sky, heart stopped.</p><p class="p1">I sucked in a heavy breath, tears streaming down my cheeks as I was brought back to my time. To the night sky, the burning candles, and the blanket beneath my legs. I clutched my chest tightly, holding on to my mother. To her smile, her laughter, her hugs. I missed her so much, and even now, I couldn’t make her dreams come true.</p><p class="p1">No. I couldn’t reunite the sides, but I could seek justice. I could find Mom’s killer and hurt them in the same way that they hurt her. I freed the spirits and closed my circle. I checked the blades tucked into my boots and cleaned up what was left of my ritual. Though the demon was still free, I had other work to do.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Zephyra makes a move to confront the hunter that killed her mother.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Ramsey’s cell rang and rang and rang. Hearing her voice would be the only thing better than gutting that hunter right here and now, but she wouldn't answer the goddamned phone. Ramsey was able to calm me, give me comfort in a way that no one else had ever been able to do. I wanted her to be here, to experience this with me, but after four or five calls, I accepted that I would have to do this alone.</p><p class="p1">I stood outside the bar with my bag over my shoulder and caught a glimpse of the Impala. I wasn’t surprised to find him here. Dean would have certainly come here looking for the demon, but I was relieved that John’s truck wasn’t parked alongside the Impala. If I was going to do this, I needed it done right, and the only way I could help Dean was if John wasn't in the way.</p><p class="p1">Rock music vibrated the floors beneath my feet as I entered the bar. The bar was filled to the brim of thirsty patrons. I meandered over to the bar and pulled myself up on one of the barstools. The bartender, the glitter-wearing waiter from last night, flashed me a warm smile and walked over to my end of the bar.</p><p class="p1">Seeing him start toward me, my eyes caught on the young man with sparkling green eyes and tousled hair whispering to a blonde woman with a low cut blouse and massive tits at the end of the bar. Dean’s eyes hung low, and by the look of the empty shot glasses sitting on the bar in front of him, he was plastered.</p><p class="p1">I smiled as Gerry walked up to me, a washcloth in one hand and a freshly washed glass in the other.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, cutie,” he said, greeting me. He looked over his shoulder in Dean's direction. “I thought the two of you were together.”</p><p class="p1">I snickered at the thought of being envious of any woman that found herself in Dean's crosshairs. “We aren't together.”</p><p class="p1">Gerry raises his brows and rolled his eyes like he didn't quite believe me. “Sure, sweetie. I saw you two eye fucking last night.”</p><p class="p1">“I promise, we’re just very friendly friends. But, can you get me a whiskey ginger and put it on my friend's tab?”</p><p class="p1">Gerry nodded and winked in my direction. “Coming right up, babe.”</p><p class="p1">My fingernails tapped on the bar top. I wasn’t sure yet if I wanted to tell Dean everything. I hadn’t decided if I wanted him to know that I’d figured out who killed my mom. I did my best to help him fight his demons, would it be too much for him to help me fight my own?</p><p class="p1">Gerry set down a napkin in front of me and topped it with my drink. “Holler if you need anything, sweetie,” he said and turned to help another patron.</p><p class="p1">I took a sip of my drink, savoring the bittersweet taste of whiskey on my tongue. “Zep, what the fuck are you doing here?”</p><p class="p1">Slowly, I turned around, meeting Dean’s drowsy gaze with my own. “It’s a bar, Dean. I came to drink. Just, not as much as you, I guess.”</p><p class="p1">He stumbled over to me, beer in hand, and leaned his elbow on the bar top to keep from falling over. “I thought you were leaving.”</p><p class="p1">I gulped down more of my drink. “And I thought you were—“ I paused, looking around to make sure no one was listening to us, and lowered my voice, “—hunting the demon.”</p><p class="p1">Dean nodded as he slowly processed my words. “Yeah, I was, I mean, I am.”</p><p class="p1">“And how the hell are you supposed to do that when you’re drunk out of your ass?”</p><p class="p1">“Wait, what?” He titled his head to the side. “What time is it?”</p><p class="p1">I raised my watch and sighed. “It’s half-past eight, why?”</p><p class="p1">“Shit!” His hand flew up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “My dad was supposed to meet me here almost two hours ago.”</p><p class="p1">It was like it was a few nights ago back in Virginia, with Dean spiraling, and radio silence from John. “You don’t think—“</p><p class="p1">I held my breath as Dean dialed his dad’s phone. He pressed his cell to his ear and waited. “Shit.” He dropped it back into his pocket and looked down at me like a puppy without a bone. “He isn’t answering.”</p><p class="p1">I downed the last of my drink and slid down off my barstool. “Okay, you stay here and sober up. He might be on his way or something.”</p><p class="p1">“And what the hell are you gonna do?”</p><p class="p1">“I’ll head back to the motel, make sure he’s not still there, and then I’ll hit up the crossroads, okay? See if he’s hanging around there trying to catch our black-eyed little friend.”</p><p class="p1">He nodded, his glassy eyes seemingly having a difficult time focusing. “Sure, but, you’re not going to walk there, are you?”</p><p class="p1">I shrugged and smiled. “I got legs.”</p><p class="p1">“And they are pretty legs. Soft, legs.”</p><p class="p1">“Dean!”</p><p class="p1">He dug around in his jacket pocket and pulled his keys out, handing them to me. “Here. Take my baby.”</p><p class="p1">I wrapped my fingers around the keys. They were warm, likely from being stuffed down in his pocket all afternoon. “You sure?”</p><p class="p1">Dean nodded and took a sip from his beer. “Yeah, I’ll grab a ride later.”</p><p class="p1">I stood on the tips of my toes and kissed his cheek. “I’ll find your dad, okay?” I took the beer from his hand and set it down in front of the guy next to us. “Here’s a free beer, my dude.” The man looked at me warily but put the bottle to his lips.</p><p class="p1">Dean grumbled beside me, watching the man finish his beer, but I kept my voice firm. “Sober up, Dean. Sober up.”</p><p class="p1">I kissed his cheek and turned toward the door. The keys jangled in my hand when I walked to the Impala. I felt guilt rising up my throat. Dean loved this thing, and the fact that he handed me his keys willingly, meant that he trusted me.</p><p class="p1">I got in the car and pulled out of the parking lot of the bar. My eyes darted around, wary of the quiet darkness. I found out who killed my Ma, and now I needed to get justice. This was what the ancestors wanted me to do, and I wanted to do it, but a pang in my side made me feel less confident than I was upon my arrival at the bar.</p><p class="p1">Dean Winchester trusted me, a witch. He trusted me with his car and all his weapons. He trusted me to find his father, and here I was, about to do something incredibly distrustful, something that would cause him pain.</p><p class="p1">When I arrived back at the motel, I remained in the car for a long moment. Nervously, my toes tapped against the floor, and my fingers on the steering wheel. This was a big deal. I'd never done anything like this before, and to betray someone I was, regretfully, starting to give a damn about...</p><p class="p1">The heels of my hands dug into my eyes as I whined, trying to gather the courage it would take to pull this off. I grunted and reached over to my bag to grab the spell I came up with back at the park. It wasn't as strong as the ones that filled the Book of Golden Letters, but it was strong enough to limit communications between Dean and his Dad for several hours and would stretch over several miles. If this was going to work, I'd have to keep them separated.</p><p class="p1">“<em>Let these words ring clear/through the airwaves far and near/sever connections that would be made/in the dark the Winchesters shall remain.</em>”</p><p class="p1">Magic whooshed in the air around me, tickling my skin like tiny droplets of drizzling rain. The air in the Impala’s cabin became wet and sticky, which meant the spell was working. I dug down in my bag for a satchel filled with lavender and chamomile and black salt and tucked in the pocket of my jacket. “I'm doing this for you, Mom,” I whispered and climbed out of the car.</p><p class="p1">Through the windows, I could see John, hunched over, reading a book at the table, with a pen between his lips. His brows were scrunched together and his hand was tapping on the table, just like Dean did when he was focused on something.</p><p class="p1">Maybe I couldn't do this; hurt him. Maybe the ancestors were wrong about me, and I wasn't strong enough for this. I'd never hurt a human person before, not like this. I fought them, I’ve left them in precarious positions, just so that I could get out of trouble, but I've never done this. I'd never done something so vile and irreverent.</p><p class="p1">I inhaled a deep breath and raised my hand to knock on the door. Not many seconds passed before John was opening the door for me. “Zep,” he said, with a hair of surprise in his voice. He raked his hair with his fingers, and sighed, his eyes looking me up and down. “What are you doing here?”</p><p class="p1">I snickered, amused by the similarities between father and son. “Can I, uh, come in? We need to talk.”</p><p class="p1">He pressed his arm against the doorframe and leaned against it with all his weight. “About what?”</p><p class="p1">“About your son.” He chuckled and rolled his eyes. “About that demon, you let loose in Savannah.” He scratched at his beard, like what I was saying was no longer important to him. I took a step closer to him, keeping my eyes focused on his. “About my book of spells.”</p><p class="p1">John's arm fell to his side and his mouth opened slightly at the mention of my book. Of course, that was the one thing that piqued his interest. For decades, hunters wanted the secrets hidden in the Book of Golden Letters, and for decades, witches, my coven, did everything it could to keep it out of hunters’ grasp.</p><p class="p1">Paranoid eyes searched the darkness behind me. When he decided it was safe, John wrapped his hand around my arm and pulled me into the motel room. Once inside with the door closed, I yanked my arm from his grasp, stumbling backward a bit. “What the hell, John? Didn’t you get the memo in kindergarten to keep your hands to yourself?”</p><p class="p1">He put his hands on his hips and leaned forward. “Where’s the book?”</p><p class="p1">I rubbed my arm, soothing the sting his grasp left on my skin. Hopefully, I made it out of this with only one injury from John Winchester. I turned my back to him in a movement that was calculated and intentional. “I never said I <em>had</em> the book. I just said I had the spell that was <em>from</em> the book.”</p><p class="p1">“Then you know where it is?”</p><p class="p1">His voice was feverish like he was a fiend in desperate need of a quick hit. It was just like in my vision; hunters were greedy about magic and would do anything to their hands on something that didn’t belong to them, on something they knew nothing about.</p><p class="p1">I narrowed my gaze on him and took a deliberate step backward. “You don’t find it interesting that you only seemed to care about one of the three things I mentioned? I mean, you barely showed any emotion when I mentioned Dean, and not even a flippant grin when I mentioned the damn demon you let loose.”</p><p class="p1">John absently scratched at his beard and averted his gaze from me. “Regarding my son, we have nothing to talk about. Except for the fact that you have him brainwashed that somehow he can work with witches.” He chuckled and looked back up at me with poison in his eyes. “But I shouldn’t be surprised. Dean was always weak when it came to pretty girls.”</p><p class="p1">I feigned a grin and curtsied. “Well, thanks for the compliment. It’s real rich coming from you.” I crossed in front of John and leaned my hip against the counter in the kitchenette. His pacing made me nervous. Like he was thinking about something that wouldn’t end nicely for me. “And what about the demon? I thought you were going to handle that?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, well, I am. I’m going to find it, and I’m going to question it the way I want.”</p><p class="p1">“And what about Dean? You know he’s at the bar waiting for you because you told him you’d meet up with him to hunt this thing down.”</p><p class="p1">“Dean…Dean doesn’t need to be a part of this. That kid—“</p><p class="p1">I interrupted him. “That kid is a fucking genius. I may have tracked you here, but he was the one that put all the pieces together. He was the one that figured out that you were here trying to get the jump on a demon to find the one that killed your wife. I’ve had the displeasure of working with dozens of hunters, and your son is one of the best. Easy. And you don’t even realize it, because you can’t get that dumb head of yours out of your ass!”</p><p class="p1">The palm of his hand slammed into the chair table, sounding a loud thud around the motel room. I jumped. “Shut the hell up and give me the damn book!”</p><p class="p1">My good hand gripped the edge of the counter behind me. Putting distance between us seemed smart at the moment, but would have been better if there wasn’t something behind me. “No! That book is sacred! You can’t have it.”</p><p class="p1">I slid along the counters, trying to make my way around the edge of the room. John launched himself in my direction, stopping himself just before he made contact. “Damn witches and your self-righteous dogma. You just want to hoard all the power for your damn selves!”</p><p class="p1">I shook my head, trying to maintain my fearless exterior. But I knew what happened when hunters didn’t get what they wanted. “That book was entrusted to us over generations and generations to keep it safe. The power in that book, we protect it. Use it to keep people safe. And all hunters want from it is power and greed.”</p><p class="p1">He moved with so much speed, that I wasn’t able to push him away when he launched himself at me again. My head bounced as I hit the ground, John’s hand wrapping tight around my neck. I shoved the heel of my hand into his chin, but it was no use. John was bigger than me, stronger than me. Spit fell out of his mouth as he raged, redness flushing his cheeks. “Tell me where the fucking book is, Zephyra! I know you’ve got it. You’re a fucking Nightwolfe! I know you’ve got it!”</p><p class="p1">My eyes bulged open. I didn’t know that he knew my last name. How could he? My mind flashed to the vision I had of my mother’s death. My name was the last thing she said before the light in her eyes dimmed, as John Winchester stood over her body. He knew. He always knew.</p><p class="p1">Hot tears stung my eyes as darkness started to cloud my vision. John Winchester killed my mother, and now…</p><p class="p1">Pressure built in my cheeks as the oxygen left in my lungs became trapped. I tried to breathe, to inhale air, but it was no use. I tried using both hands to fight against his grip, but nothing I did freed me. If anything, it just made me feel more tired, weaker. My hands fell to the ground, pain radiating from my swollen wrist, and my eyes began to shut.</p><p class="p1">“Tell me where it is, witch! Tell me where the fucking book is! Don’t end up like your goddamned mother, Zephyra. Be smarter than her! Is that book worth losing your life?”</p><p class="p1">The Book of Golden Letters was rife with powerful spells, knowledge, information. It was used for generations to help hunters and witches keep the world safe from werewolves, vampires, ghouls, and ghosts. Witches were trusted, honored, revered. This book meant everything to us. My mom died protecting it…</p><p class="p1">Yes. Yes, keeping that book safe was worth my life, but it wouldn’t be taken today. John would not have the blood of two NightWolfe witches on his hands.</p><p class="p1">My eyes flew open, fueled by magic and rage. Ignoring the pain in my wrist, I brought both arms down hard on John’s hands, releasing his hold on my neck. He grunted but reached forward to regain control of me again. This time, I was ready, and flung my hand in his direction, forcing him back against the wall on the opposite side of the room.</p><p class="p1">His head slammed against the wall with a loud thud, giving me time to catch my breath. I used the bed next to me to pull myself back to my feet. The room around me spun, still dizzy from the lack of oxygen in my blood. I leaned on the table, shaking my head clear of the fog, and started toward him, magic buzzing in my fingers.</p><p class="p1">“You stupid son of a bitch!” He fumbled his way to his feet and threatened to cross the distance between us with fury. His eyes bulged, nostrils flared, as he rushed toward me. There was nothing but rage on his mind, but he wasn’t the only one that was pissed. Except I had the favor of generations of witches on my side, while he had generations of colonizers and thieves behind him.</p><p class="p1">With my good hand, I dug in my pocket looking for the satchel. I held my wrapped hand in the air, creating a blockade between me and the hunter. Since I was feeling so weak, I knew it wouldn’t last long, but it would hold long enough. I set the satchel down on the ground and filled my palms with the grainy substance inside. “Night, night, bitch!” I blew the contents of my satchel into his face.</p><p class="p1">At first, I wasn’t sure if it worked, if the spell was strong enough to knock him down. He stumbled forward, reaching out for anything he could hold on to, and failed. I sucked in a deep breath, half in fear, and half in anticipation of his next move. John’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and his knees collapsed on the ground beneath him. As his eyes shut, his face landed on the floor of the motel room.</p><p class="p1">I stumbled back, falling down beside him. I pressed my fingers to his neck and was relieved to still feel his pulse. He was breathing. I leaned my head back against the edge of the bed, taking a moment to catch my breath. Pain ripped through my wrist, but it was the least of my concern. After what I had planned, my wrist would be healed, justice would be served, and I would be safe from him.</p><p class="p1">This was why the spirits brought me here. This was what I was meant to do. And by the ancestors, I was going to get this shit done.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>With John finally in her grasp, Zephyra makes the decision to heed her ancestor's call.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p2">Dragging John into the back of his truck took more energy than I had. Dragging him into the abandoned cabin I found on my nature walk earlier in the evening, was only made possible by using magic. I was spent. My wrist ached, my legs were tired, but my mind was as sharp as ever. The spell I used in the motel room kept him knocked out for our entire trip. It worked well, maybe too well.</p><p class="p2">I walked in a circle around him in the chair I tied him up in, plotting and planning. Torturing demons, I knew. I’d done it hundreds of times. I knew what worked, what didn’t, how hard I could push without killing them. But this was different. I never imagined I’d actually find the hunter that killed my mother, much less get my hands on them. For years now, I dreamed of how I would torture them when I found them, but I thought it would always be a dream.</p><p class="p2">Reality set in. John Winchester, the hunter that led my mom, my coven, to their deaths, was tied up in a chair, knocked out from my spell, and his life was now in my hands. I jumped at the sound of my phone ringing in the back pocket of my pants. I pulled it out, hoping that it was Ramsey. Instead, Dean’s name flashed across the Caller ID. “Shit.”</p><p class="p2">John groaned as he came to in the chair. He pulled and pushed against the ropes tightened around his hands and ankles, but it didn’t do him any good. My phone still in my hand, I walked around to face him. There was a large, red mark on his face from where he landed on the floor. He jerked his chin in my direction. “That my son?” he asked.</p><p class="p2">I silenced my phone and stuffed in my jacket pocket. “It was.”</p><p class="p2">Veins protruded from John’s neck and forehead as he spat at my feet. I backed up, avoiding his trajectory. “My son’s going to find you. And he’s going to kill you, you filthy bitch.”</p><p class="p2">I held my sprained wrist again my side and shrugged. “Oh, now you wanna admit that your son’s a good hunter? Likely, a better hunter than you?” John grunted, but didn’t say anything. “But you’re right. He’s good at what he does, so he will find us. Even if I left the Impala at the motel, dropped his keys in your room. I mean, since I didn’t answer the phone and your car is missing from the parking lot, it’d be easy for him to conclude that both of us were off hunting the demon. But even with all of that, he will find us. I just hope that by the time he does, the demon will have already killed you. And left me for dead.”</p><p class="p2">John gasped. “You won’t kill me. You care about my son too much.”</p><p class="p2">I dropped my eyes to the ground and chuckled. When I looked back up, a smile had crept onto my lips. “I care about your son, but not in the way you think. Dean is a good man. I wonder where he gets it from.”</p><p class="p2">My hands curled into a ball as I swung on him with a left hook. Blood splattered on the corner of his mouth from the blow, and he spat it on the ground beneath him. “He’s not going to let you go. He won’t let you get away!”</p><p class="p2">I leaned down, pressing my hand against my thigh and smirked. “It doesn’t matter, John. Because when I’m done with you, I’ll be so much stronger. Not even a Winchester will be able to stop me.”</p><p class="p2">I waved my hand in the air and magic swung down like werewolf claws, digging into John’s skin. Blood seeped out of the massive gashes on his face and chest. He screamed through gritted teeth as the pain wracked his body. “So it’s true then,” he said, still fighting against the ropes that kept him tied. “You bitches do feed off of death energy.”</p><p class="p2">I took slow steps as I circled him again. Keeping myself moving meant that I could keep an eye on his attempts for freedom, and I wouldn’t let him get away. “My coven, we never did it. We get stronger with each generation, power from generations and generations flowing through our blood. But others, well, they do what they have to to amass power. To protect themselves from the likes of you, John.”</p><p class="p2">He flashed his teeth in a wide grin, one that sent chills down my spine. “Ooh, Ms. NightWolfe, you’re a bad witch, now, aren’t you?” His voice was thick with sarcasm. It was all he could do to keep himself fighting. “You’re stronger than your mother, I’ll give you that. Smarter too. Losing her must have been good for you. Maybe you should thank me.”</p><p class="p2">I raised my hand in the air and raked down again, magic filling my fingernails, as claw marks covered the other side of his face. His scream was guttural, animalistic, even. It terrified me how good it sounded, like bells, or string instruments in an orchestra. I walked toward him, glee filling my gut. “I’m a Black woman and a witch. Because of you bloodthirsty hunters, I had no choice but to be strong. But I promise you, John, I’m not strong because of you. I’m strong because of me.”</p><p class="p2">The back of my hand landed across his lips, busting them wide open. “You don’t get it!” I screamed, rage boiling in my blood. “You don’t get what it’s like, to walk through this world always looking over your shoulder. To be afraid that one wrong move will get you dead, that trusting the wrong person will land you in the ground. You killed my mother over a book, a damned book! And you massacred my coven. So you don’t get to feel safe, John Winchester. You don’t get to meander about the world with a chip on your shoulder. You deserve this!”</p><p class="p2">“Zephyra! Stop!”</p><p class="p2">My back straightened like a rod at the sound of Dean’s voice. He wasn’t supposed to be here so soon. He wasn’t supposed to be here until John was dead. Maybe I wasn’t so different from dear old dad. John underestimated him all the time, and so had I. I raised my palms and turned around in surrender.</p><p class="p2">Dean stood in the entrance of the cabin with a handgun in his hands, and it was pointed at me. His fair skin shimmered beneath the light of the moon, but his eyes looked sharp, focused. He narrowed them, taking enough steps to cross the threshold, joining me and his dad in the cabin. Without taking his eyes off of me, or lowering his weapon, he closed the door behind him, making the only light in the room come from the light hanging over our heads.</p><p class="p2">Arms raised, I took a step forward. “Dean, what are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here yet!” Shallow breaths stung my lungs. My heart pounded against my chest as my plan started to foil. He wasn’t supposed to be here, not yet.</p><p class="p2">“Fuck, Zep, what the hell are you talking about? What the fuck are you doing?” Dean walked in my direction, eyes narrowed, lips parted. It couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours since I left him in the bar, stumbling. Now, he seemed so zoned in on his target.</p><p class="p2">On me.</p><p class="p2">It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I didn’t want to hurt Dean like this. I didn’t want him to witness what I did to his father. I knew what it was like to lose a parent, to live your life without them, just as he knew what it was like to grow up without his mother. I didn’t want to take his father from him too, but I couldn’t let John go. I didn’t want Dean to know that it was me.</p><p class="p2">I swallowed hard. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Dean. I never meant to hurt you. Not like this.”</p><p class="p2">He kept the gun trained on me as he walked past me going to his father. His jaw tensed, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. I turned along with him as he knelt down and began working on knots I’d wound around his dad’s ankles and hands. “Dean, stop. Don’t let him go, please.”</p><p class="p2">The ropes dropped down to the ground and I felt my gut flip at the thought of all my hard work going to waste. “Are you crazy, Zep? I mean, was this your plan the whole time?”</p><p class="p2">Vigorously, I shook my head. “No, Dean, of course, not. This was never what I wanted, but you don’t understand.”</p><p class="p2">“Then make me! Make me understand why you tied up my dad!”</p><p class="p2">“He killed my mom!” The words burned through my throat, hot and searing, filling every inch of me with pain. “He destroyed my entire coven, Dean! I told you! I told you what I was going to do when I found out!”</p><p class="p2">His back stiffened and his jaw slackened. “What?”</p><p class="p2">“Your dad led a group of hunters into my coven’s bunker and killed them. Your dad slit my mother’s throat, all because she wouldn’t give him our special book.”</p><p class="p2">John stood, blood still dripping from the wounds on his cheeks. “Come on, Dean. Let’s go.” He reached out for his son, but Dean didn’t move. He kept his feet firm on the ground. “Son, we need to go.”</p><p class="p2">“Did you do it?” Dean asked. His voice was quiet, like all the confidence he had walking into this cabin had abated, leaving behind a horrified little boy.</p><p class="p2">“Dean, let’s go.”</p><p class="p2">“Dad, did you do it? Did you kill her family?”</p><p class="p2">“Dean…”</p><p class="p2">“Tell him!” I screamed. “Tell him what you did!”</p><p class="p2">Dean moved closer to me, pointing the gun between my eyes with ferocity. “You, shut the hell up!” I jumped, fear vibrating through my bones. Gun trained on me, he turned to his father, his voice stern and heavy. “Did you kill all those people, over a book?”</p><p class="p2">John sighed and walked away from us both, hands on his hips and eyes to the ground. “I didn’t kill people, Dean. I killed witches.”</p><p class="p2">By the look in Dean’s eyes, I wondered if my fear was visible in my eyes, or if the rage had won. He searched my face, though I couldn’t imagine what for. “He didn’t just kill her,” I said to Dean, pain slipping into my words. “He shoved a knife into her gut and hitched it up into her sternum. He withdrew it, sending her down on her knees.” Tears bubbled in his eyes making them look glassy. “She begged him not to kill her. She begged him to let her go home to her daughter, to me. You know what he did, Dean?”</p><p class="p2">Dean’s eyes turned away from me for the first time since he entered the cabin. “Stop, Zep.”</p><p class="p2">“Look at me!” His eyes fastened onto my gaze once again. His lips trembled as emotion filled him. “He slit her throat and stood over her, watching every single breath she took before she died. That’s who your dad is, Dean. He’s a monster! A monster!”</p><p class="p2">A tear rolled down Dean’s cheek, leaving behind a wet streak like a slug leaving behind a trail of slime. I exhaled when he began to lower his gun to the ground. Maybe I had gotten through to him. Maybe he understood.</p><p class="p2">John reached for Dean’s gun, and as they fought for it, the gun dropped to the ground, the impact setting it off. On instinct, we all dropped to the ground, trying to avoid its trajectory. My wrist burned as it hit the ground, but I tried to push down the pain. There were only a few moments before that gun was aimed at my head again, and if that happened, there was a good chance I’d end up with a bullet to the brain.</p><p class="p2">I looked up from the ground and raised my hand toward the gun, sliding it clear across the room so that neither Winchester could reach it. John cursed as he fought his way to his feet. I thought he would rush toward the gun, but he didn’t. Instead, he came toward me. I reached down into my boot and pulled my karambit from its holster. When John was close enough to me, I swung, nicking his hand in one smooth movement.</p><p class="p2">“Ouch! You psycho bitch!”</p><p class="p2">I rolled over to my feet as he yanked his hand back. I lowered my center and squared my feet, keeping my karambit raised. John was like a raging bull rushing into a red muleta. I grinned at him, knowing that I could take him, just like I did before. “Come on, if you comin’, old man.”</p><p class="p2">Taking the bait, John lurched forward, swinging his bleeding fist in the air. In the nick of time, I stepped back, putting more space between us. He lunged forward again, but I slid my blade across his cheek. He recoiled, pain catching the majority of his attention, which gave me the opening I needed to charge at him, tackling him to the ground.</p><p class="p2">My calculated move turned out to be a mistake. John caught my injured wrist, mid-strike and twisted it. I fell on the ground, writhing in pain when the toe of his boots landed into my gut. Pushing through the pain, I pulled myself back up to my feet, using the wall of the cabin as an aid. “You’re a lot tougher than you look,” John taunted.</p><p class="p2">I shrugged my shoulder smugly. “I know.” I ducked as his fist came at me, but he was a good fighter too, and swept my legs from under me, sending me face-first to the floor. I looked up, preparing myself for another impact, but I found myself staring down the barrel of Dean’s gun, again.</p><p class="p2">“Don’t move,” Dean said. He kicked my karambit out of my hand and the metal squealed as it slid across the floor.</p><p class="p2">I looked up, breathing hard. “Dean, I’m sorry. I…I didn’t mean to hurt you like this.”</p><p class="p2">“Was this your plan, Zephyra? Cozy up to me and then ice my dad?”</p><p class="p2">“No!” I answered quickly. “No, it wasn’t my plan. I really just wanted to help you, but then I had a vision. My mother showed me what happened. I told you what I’d do if I found out, Dean. You said you got it.”</p><p class="p2">“Yeah, that was before you tried to kill my dad, so…”</p><p class="p2">Magic buzzed on the tips of my fingers. My magic charged, filling me with power that ran through my veins. “I’m sorry, Dean.”</p><p class="p2">A burst of my magic exploded from my fingertips, sending Dean back and against the wall of the cabin. I held him up with my injured hand and reached for the satchel in my pocket with the other. He screamed, protesting against me, but none of that mattered. Using my magic to keep it in the air, I turned the satchel over, allowing its contents to float in the air. “Sleep,” I whispered, and blew the mixture into Dean's face.</p><p class="p2">Immediately, his eyes closed shut and his arms went limp. I snapped my head in John’s direction as I slowly lowered Dean to the ground. His body slumped against the wall, his head hanging into his chest, as he slept. His dad, on the other hand, was in bad shape.</p><p class="p2">Blood was smeared all over his cheeks and dropped from the cuts I made on his hands. He leaned against the wall, defensively. I knelt down to pick up my karambit and walked over to him. “You know, I was going to take my time with this, really savor it. But now, I think I've got an even better idea. Sit up.”</p><p class="p2">He didn't move except to shoot a ball of spit in my face.</p><p class="p2">I used the sleeve of my jacket to wipe it away, trying not to release the bile rising in my throat in the process. I grabbed John by the collar and pulled him up to his knees. “I was gonna take my time, John, and kill you slow like I'd been planning since I was twenty-one years old. But no, I think there's a better way for you to die.”</p><p class="p2">I shoved my blade into his gut. Blood dribbled down the corner of his mouth and his eyes bulged wide open. I twisted the blade, the curve ripping through his organs, twisting them like a fork in spaghetti. “What better way than to gut you just like you did to my mother.”</p><p class="p2">He clutched his gut as if it would heal the wound. His eyes bore into me like daggers, piercing into my very soul. “Go to hell, witch!”</p><p class="p2">I smiled, feeling pride prickle my skin. “Don’t worry, I’ll see you there.” In one fell swoop, the blade sliced through John’s throat, blood sputtering, splattering on my cheeks and t-shirt. I held my breath, waiting for his body to drop to the ground, and exhaled when it did.</p><p class="p2">It felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders when I saw the light go out in his eyes. But I wasn’t done, yet. I dropped down to my knees and dragged the tip of my karambit from the inside of my elbow down to the wrapped bandage on my wrist. Pain shot through me, even more so than it already was. My hand shook as dizziness began to take me over. I blinked, over and over again, trying to regain focus.</p><p class="p2">I struggled to switch the blade from my left and to my right, and sliced open my left forearm. Blood covered the ground below me, mixing my blood with Johns. I inhaled a deep breath, feeling the rush of adrenaline flying through my nerves. With all the blood loss, I didn’t have long to complete the spell, so I tensed my jaw and raised my eyes to the ceiling.</p><p class="p2">“<em>I snatch you now from Death’s embrace/ Filling me from within/Your life force swift becomes my gift/Filling me from within.</em>”</p><p class="p2">I repeated the incantation three times, once for the maiden, once for the mother, once for the crone, and felt a wave of power rush through me. Euphoria pulled my lips into a smile as my mind became cloudy. Blood sticking to my cheeks as I crashed down to the floor, my eyes landing on John Winchester’s once more before the world went black.</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dean confronts Zephyra in the fallout of John's death.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">I sucked air into my lungs when I woke. I bolted up and looked around. I was back in the motel room I shared with Dean, lying on the bed. I looked down at my arms, surprised to see the bandages wrapped around my arms and wrist. I dragged my hands down my face, expecting to feel sticky blood on my cheeks, but there was no sign of blood or anything else anywhere on my body.</p><p class="p1">“Morning, sunshine.”</p><p class="p1">My head snapped when I heard his voice. Air filled my lungs like ice as his cold, hard eyes glared back at me. “Dean, what the hell?”</p><p class="p1">He leaned forward in his chair, his elbows digging into the top of his thighs. “I cleaned you up, dressed your wounds.”</p><p class="p1">I shoved the bedcover aside and swung my legs over the edge. I was surprised to see him, and even more surprised that I was sitting up, alive, after everything that happened. “Why did you do that? Why didn’t you just shoot me in the head and be done with it?”</p><p class="p1">He raked his hands through his hair and flared his nostrils. “Honestly, I haven’t decided if I still am or not.”</p><p class="p1">That, I expected. I brushed my curls out of my face and sighed. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did.” Dean dropped his eyes to the ground and licked at his lips. I could feel the tension between us reach a head, and it left me feeling heavy guilt in my chest. I didn’t mean to hurt him like this, and I hated that I felt anything besides pride in finally ganking the bastard that killed my mom. “You are a better man than your dad ever was.”</p><p class="p1">Dean scratched the bridge of his nose and stood up from his chair. “Yeah, what good it ever did me.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry. I’m sorry about your dad.”</p><p class="p1">The muscles of his back tensed when turned away from me. I couldn’t imagine how difficult it must’ve been to help the person that killed his dad. I couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain he was feeling, all because of me. “Zep, tell me, was this your plan all along?”</p><p class="p1">I shook my head and bit the inside of my cheek. “No.”</p><p class="p1">“So that bit about you being unsure if this was where you were supposed to be, that was legit?”</p><p class="p1">I nodded. “Yeah, I really didn’t.”</p><p class="p1">“And sleeping with me, that wasn’t planned either?”</p><p class="p1">I smiled, recalling the time we spent together. I had no romantic feelings for Dean, but I couldn’t deny a good time. “That was all you, dude.”</p><p class="p1">I expected a half-smile from him at least, show a bit of pride, and found myself disappointed when he didn’t. “Then why did you come here with me?”</p><p class="p1">I folded my hands together and laid them between my legs as I leaned forward on the edge of the bed. “You remember that asthma attack I had in the parking lot in Virginia?”</p><p class="p1">He nodded slowly and leaned himself against the counters in the kitchenette. At every turn, he avoided my gaze. “Yes.”</p><p class="p1">“That, uh, that was the spirits, my ancestors. I was about to walk away, go back to whatever the hell I was going to do, but they stopped me. They wanted me to get in that Impala and help you find your dad.”</p><p class="p1">“So they were going to suffocate you if you didn’t agree to help me?”</p><p class="p1">I nodded my head, my curls bouncing around my cheeks. “Yes, and then, when we were in the car on the way to Savannah, you told me about your mom. You told me how you thought your dad had come here chasing a lead on the demon that killed her, and it became so fucking clear to me.”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t follow.”</p><p class="p1">“The night your dad killed my mother, was a night she’d be anticipating for years. Back in the day, when our parents were little kids, hunters and witches worked together within an organization called the Men of Letters.”</p><p class="p1">Dean’s lips slightly parted. “Men of Letters; that’s an old wives tale.”</p><p class="p1">“No, Dean, it was real. Hunters and witches, we are all meant to work together, fighting demons and monsters, protecting humanity. And it was my mother’s biggest dream, her life’s work to make that happen again. So when John and his band of hunters showed interest, she invited them our bunker in Charleston, one of the few that were left by the Men of Letters after they were destroyed by demons.</p><p class="p1">“I thought…I thought that if I helped you find your dad if I helped you find the demon that killed your mother, that it would be the start of reuniting witches and hunters. I thought I’d be able to make my mother’s dream a reality.”</p><p class="p1">Dean folded his arms across his chest and grunted. “So how’d you get from that to killing my dad?”</p><p class="p1">“I was disappointed in myself about how things went down at the crossroads. I came here to help you, and not only did I fail, but I also didn’t stop that demon from running rampant through the city. I felt like shit.”</p><p class="p1">“So you went on that spiritual journey thing?”</p><p class="p1">“Sort of.” I looked up at him with soft, remorseful eyes, but it did nothing to temper the anger flowing through him. “I had a vision of your dad killing my mom. And after seeing that…”</p><p class="p1">“You had to get your revenge.”</p><p class="p1">I stood up, my toes digging into the carpet. “I didn’t want to hurt you like this, Dean. You’ve gotta believe that.”</p><p class="p1">“And why not, Zep? Just a couple of days ago, I was just a hunter to you. You looked at me and my dad with the same rage-filled eyes.”</p><p class="p1">I smiled at him. There was no fighting the care I had for Dean. It was shocking and frustrating, but I couldn’t ignore it. “Simple. I got to know you a little. I mean, you are right. I hated you a couple of days ago. I thought that at the end of this either I’d end up dead or I would have wound up stabbing you in the eye just out of our annoyance. And then you made me laugh. And then I realized that you've gone through shit just like everybody else.”</p><p class="p1">He snorted, turning away from me.</p><p class="p1">“But, Dean, what really changed everything, was in the bar, when you said that I was right where I needed to be. Because for one split moment, I thought you were right. That you and I were meant to work this job together, to bring hunters and witches together like it should be.”</p><p class="p1">I walked past the table to stand next to him, to see the freckles on his cheeks as he frowned, but he waved me off like I was a gnat buzzing in his ear. “I don’t regret killing John Winchester, but I will always regret hurting you.”</p><p class="p1">I turned away from him and found my shoes and my bag on the floor next to the bed. I sat down on the edge of the bed and put on my socks and shoes. Then, I ripped the bandages off my arms and wrist. I heard Dean’s protests, but none of that mattered. With all the energy I took in from his father’s death, I knew I didn’t need them. There wasn’t a bit of ache or pain in my arms or wrist, even though there should have been.</p><p class="p1">I unraveled the wraps and bandages, revealing healthy, healed skin. I looked up at Dean’s mouth hanging open and grinned. “It was magic,” I said. “It healed while I was sleeping.” I left it at that, though I could see the questions burning his tongue. He didn’t need to know that I absorbed his dad’s energy. He didn’t need to know that his father’s death, no only served as justice for my mom, but also a massive boost to my magic.</p><p class="p1">He hated me enough.</p><p class="p1">“So what now?” he asked.</p><p class="p1">I shrugged into my jacket and faced Dean. I looked down at his waistband and saw the handgun tucked away. I cleared my throat and nervously swung my arms at my side. “The way I see it, you’ve got three options. One, I pick up my bag, walk out that door, and you shoot me in the head.” He shuddered at the suggestion but kept his mouth shut, listening. “Two, I pick up my bag and I walk out, and you never see me again. Or three, I pick up my bag, walk out that door, and I know that the next time you see me, you’re going to kill me.”</p><p class="p1">I knelt down and picked my bag up off the floor and hung it over my shoulder. “And whatever you decide, Dean, I’ll accept it. That’s the thing about life, there are always consequences for our actions. No matter how far and fast we run from them, they always catch us.”</p><p class="p1">I waited, expecting him to flick off the safety on his handgun, and press it to my forehead just like he did at the cabin. Instead, he remained still, like a statue. Holding my breath, I walked past him, clutching my bag tight, and headed for the door. I waited in the doorway, expecting something, anything. And when nothing came, I opened the door and walked out.</p><p class="p1">Before I left, I turned to look at Dean over my shoulder. His eyes looked tired and heavy, and his knuckles looked bruised and cut. I did this to him. The tears he spilled, the fear, the rage, that was all because of me. “Before I go, Dean. I want you to know, that if you ever need anything, a spell, protection, a safe place to shelter, or a partner on a case, just call. I will always come. Always.”</p><p class="p1">His voice cracked as sorrow filled his airways, though he refused to let it show on his face. “Goodbye, Zephyra.”</p><p class="p1">My lips twitched in a half-smile as I turned away, all hopes of fulfilling my mother’s dreams, floating away in the wind.</p>
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